


The Insistence of Light

by shcherbatskayas



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Dangan Ronpa: Another Episode, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Armchair Therapy, But also a lot of funny/stupid moments, Coming of Age, Dysfunctional Family, F/F, F/M, Gen, Group Therapy, Hospitals, I think that's what you call that, Intense Family Dinners, Ishimaru and Peko as half-siblings 2k16, Junko Enoshima being herself, M/M, Meme Queen Natsumi Kuzuryuu, People are sad okay, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, Underage Drug Use, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 01:43:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 24
Words: 109,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6833668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shcherbatskayas/pseuds/shcherbatskayas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Peko Pekoyama was abandoned as an infant, she was generously taken in by the extremely wealthy Kuzuryuu family with the understanding that she was not to be treated as a child, but as a tool to be trained and eventually act as the personal bodyguard and hitwoman for their son. Her whole life, Peko was trained not just wield a sword, but to be a sword. After sixteen years of faithful service, she is discarded and left without a home, a job, or a desire to live. Enter Hope’s Peak, a halfway house in Chicago filled to the brim with teenagers like her and god only knows what they’ll drag her into during their attempts to turn the sword into a real girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Left to Rust

**Author's Note:**

> So here we are, with my first Dangan Ronpa fanfic! I’m planning to update this fic either weekly or bi-weekly, but I haven’t decided yet. This story is going to take place in Chicago, USA because a) There are very few/no Catholic high schools in Japan (yep, this a Catholic high school AU bc why the fuck not honestly) and b) I know very little about average life Japan. With that said, please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Peko Pekoyama’s entire world came crashing down around her on a sunny July afternoon during her weekly ballet lessons. Her sensei firmly believed that no person should wield a sword if they could not dance, so he insisted that the albino girl take dance lessons twice a week. The Kuzuryuus obligated with minimal enthusiasm, but no real resistance. Dance made her seem like a real girl, and 3 out of 4 Kuzuryuus did not like the concept of her seeming life-like whatsoever. More than that, they didn’t like that the lessons meant that she would be doing something other than protecting Fuyuhiko or slicing things with her sword. 

She was in the midst of doing an across the floor combination when the master and mistress entered. Peko obediently stopped and faced the master and his wife, patiently awaiting their instructions. She seemed to not breathe at all as she waited, and one looking at her would get the same eerie feeling that occurs when looking at a very life-like doll. 

“Girl,” the master said, grabbing her arm in a manner he probably thought was harsh and imposing, but it stirred no real emotional response from her. Very few things did. “You are needed.”

Peko nodded, trying to read his face for an explanation of what was going on. Her teacher, a woman in her mid-thirties who always called Peko by her first name, was very obviously displeased by the intrusion. “What’s happening?” The instructor demanded in her high, somewhat shrill voice, placing one hand on her hip. “I’m not finished with Peko yet.” 

With a dramatic sob that sounded somewhat fake (but not entirely so) to Peko’s ears, Mrs. Kuzuryuu said the only words that could strike fear into her heart. “Our son,” she cried. “He’s missing.”

“Missing?” Peko echoed, unable to believe what she had just heard. Not the young master. Not Fuyuhiko. The only person who cared about her, the only person she had ever loved, the person she was born and raised to protect... that person was missing? It couldn’t be possible. She must’ve heard her wrong. He couldn’t be _missing_.

“Yes. Missing.” Her master confirmed through gritted teeth. “Kidnapped.” It was only then that Peko realized that she could get in trouble for this, for failing to do her job (and only God knows what her punishment would be for this), but she shoved her fear aside. This was not the time to feel. She had to focus on finding the young master, and her head needed to be as clear as possible to do that.

Once she grabbed her bag, Peko was half-dragged to the limo, even though she was more than capable of walking herself. Pulling her around seemed to make the master feel better, so she didn’t complain. Tools never complained, and that’s what she was. A tool. A tool that had failed. She wiped her eyes with the hem of her sleeve and took a deep breath. The air of Chicago filled her lungs and did little to clear her mind, but it helped her enough to try and appear in control.

She was all but shoved into the limo and was quick to check to make sure her sword was still in there, along with sneakers. Whatever she would have to do, it probably wouldn’t involve pointe shoes. Before she could even undo the ribbons, Mrs. Kuzuryuu swatted her hand and began to speak.

“Listen to me, girl. My son was just taken by the Togamis. Do you know how much money we owe that family? A lot. More money than you’d make in a thousand lifetimes. They’re going to take him, possibly forever, unless we pay _today_. You have until 9 pm to free him from their estate. The address is here, along with how much money we owe them. You need to get at least half of that. The other half has already been covered. Understand?” Even though she was clearly upset, the woman’s voice was authoritative and strong. She had always reminded Peko of a marble statue, even now.

“I understand.” Peko replied shortly before opening up the piece of paper. The address was for a location about an hour outside of the city, and the amount needed was at least $20 million. Her eyes widened when she saw the number, but it was such a miniscule reaction that one wouldn’t have noticed it unless they were watching for it.

“And when we return to our home,” her master began, “pack your bags. You’re fired.” 

“Fired?! Who could replace her? We’ve been training her since birth!” His wife spat back, folding her arms.

“A warrior is just as replaceable as the sword they carry.” He replied. Peko said nothing, even though her throat was filling up with pleas and apologies and explanations. Now was not the time to beg. Her actions would be her words, and her only action was to fix her gaze on a spot outside, tune out the arguing of her master and mistress, and start planning.

The Togami estate was huge, and she knew its security system was the stuff of legends. She’d need a good disguise and to take out a few cameras. And there was the problem of how to get $20 million. And she had to do this in six hours. If she had time to panic, Peko would, but it was crunch time. 

“Does it need to actually be $20 million, or would the appearance of $20 million be good enough?” She questioned during a pause in the fight.

“Yes, because we’ll be able to give them the real money tomorrow, but I don’t know how you’ll obtain the appearance of such money. It’s not like you have $20 million in stocks to sell. Bank robbery is your best option.” Her master rolled his eyes and scoffed. “You’re a very stupid tool, you know that?”

“I know, sir.” Peko replied obediently, bowing her head slightly. She had never considered herself to be stupid, but if her master had said it, it must be true. In her experience, reality was what he said it was. If he said Peko was stupid, she was stupid. That was how life worked for her. She, in fact, did have a plan that wouldn't involve her physically going into a bank, but she wisely kept her mouth shut until the limo stopped on an inconspicuous street.

“One of the main banks to Togami’s use is two blocks down. Don’t be seen.” Mr. Kuzuryuu told her harshly. “And remember what you are, girl. You are a tool.”

With that statement, Peko grabbed her bag and exited the limo. Once it drove off, she snuck into an alleyway to finish formulating her plan. 

First, she would grab a subway to the other side of town and go the headquarters of the Crazy Diamonds, the most notorious gang in Chicago. They owed her a favor or ninety eight, so she was always able to keep a few disguises in their main apartment. She’d disguise herself as a normal girl and grab her sword that was innocently disguised as an oboe and all would be well. After that, it would be a simple stroll to the nearest library with a computer. From there, she could start making sham PayPal accounts and fill them with fake money until had $20 million and transfer it to various Togami bank accounts. By the time they realized the money was fake and they only had a quarter of what they needed, she would already be leaving with Fuyuhiko. It wouldn’t be too difficult, but it was nerve-racking anyhow. 

Once all of this was finalized in her mind, Peko made her way to the subway. Nobody paid her too much mind and soon she was where she needed to be, outside of a somewhat shady apartment building in a part of town no Kuzuryuu would ever be seen in. Good thing she wasn’t a Kuzuryuu. 

She made her way into the building without looking at anyone that was in the main lobby. They all knew her and that she had a purpose for being there, and so no one approached her. Peko preferred it that way. She went up three flights of stairs, found apartment 396, and knocked twice.

The door was opened by a familiar face, but one that she had never bothered to learn the name that was attached to it. 

“Oowada’s not here.” He said gruffly as Peko entered the apartment, either not noticing or not caring that he didn’t want her here.

“I heard he got released last month.” Peko commented, pausing to turn around and face this stranger. Mondo Oowada had been the leader of the Crazy Diamonds for as long as she had been using their hideouts for undercover work. He was her age, maybe a year old, and she had developed something akin to a friendship with him. And then he got arrested for aggravated assault and spent six months in juvie hall and their friendship came to an abrupt end. Maybe that was for the best. Tools are not meant to form attachments. 

“He did, but he got put in some damn halfway house. Hasn’t been seen around here since. Now scram.” He told her hastily, gesturing towards the door. 

“I need five minutes, and then you’ll never see me again.” Peko shot back, giving him a look of desperation. She normally never showed such emotions, but it seemed to be the best way to break through to him. 

“Just five minutes. One second more and I’ll kick your ass to the curb.” He agreed to her terms and with that, she head towards the bedroom where she kept her disguises and various other items. 

The room was familiar to her. She was greeted by a twin sized bed, windows perpetually covered by a curtain that was slowly being attacked by moths, a large closet that she could fit in without any issues, and a desk that seemed unnaturally clean compared to the rest of the room. All of it was familiar to her and Peko allowed herself ten seconds to close her eyes breathe. She leaned against the door and let out one quiet sob because not only had she failed to protect Fuyuhiko, but her failure could get her killed, or worse: it could get her thrown out.

Letting out that small burst of emotion gave Peko some relief and she focused at the task on hand. Throwing open the closet door, she grabbed the first disguise she could find. She wrangled her hair into a brunette wig, quickly put in a pair of contacts (they did nothing to improve her vision, but they changed the distinctive red color to a more subdued purple-blue), put her glasses back on, changed into a pair of jeans and a hoodie, took the backpack she kept in the closet, and then sat down on the bed. Peko opened the backpack and put her old clothes in it and then checked to make sure everything was there. A few thousand dollars in cash were settled at the bottom, burner cell phone, a few books, a disguised sword, a granola bar, and a list of people who owed her favors were all just as she left them. Once that was certain, she switched out her pointe shoes for sneakers, put her undisguised sword in the gap between the floorboards, and then finally left.

“That was six minutes.” The new owner of the apartment complained.

“My sincerest apologies.” Peko replied quickly, opening the door and leaving without looking back at him.

The walk to the library was agonizing. Every person she passed on the street was so normal, so happy, so unaware that the very foundation of the earth was shifting beneath her feet. Suddenly, as if the memory assaulted her, Peko remembered watching apocalypse movies with Fuyuhiko when he wanted someone to see them with and talking about what they thought the end of the world would look like. He was certain it would be zombies and that it would be the two of them versus the rest of the world and that they’d end up being the lucky few survivors. When she was asked for her opinion (and he did ask for her own thoughts, something which flustered her greatly), Peko had said something vague about the rising oceans, but she knew what it really would look like. It would look like this, and here it was, the thing she had feared for her whole life. She was being discarded. All she could do was hope that the mistress changed her husband’s mind over the course of the few hours, and the helplessness was equal parts frustrating and terrifying.

The library was practically empty when Peko arrived. She sat down at a computer far away from the librarian’s desk and began her work. It was utterly mind-numbing, making accounts and moving money from one place to another and then repeating it until she reached the magical number. It took nearly 3 hours for her to get the $20 million to where it ought to be. Around hour 2, she had called for a taxi from her burner and it pulled up a minute before she finished.

Peko left the library after checking out a book, just so that she wouldn’t look suspicious. She had only briefly glanced at the title before grabbing it and only examined it when she got into the taxi. _Wuthering Heights_. Hopefully it would provide some sort of distraction for her.

“Where to?” The taxi driver asked her, looking back at his young customer.

“189 Monroe Road, please.” She requested, naming the large home two miles away from the Togami estate.

He shook his head. “That’s an hour outside of the city, honey. I can’t do that.”

“I’ll pay double as long as you get me there within the hour.” Peko offered, and with that, he was off, doing 90 in a 65 and cheerfully breaking traffic laws in a way only old taxi drivers ever did. The ride was almost entirely silent, with the driver focusing on going as fast as humanly possible and Peko focusing on exactly how she would approach things. She tried to read, but somehow she couldn’t make herself focus. The words were all ones she was familiar with, but she couldn’t string them together to get an actual meaning. The whole endeavor was irritating, and she gave up on it quickly. 

“Stop here.” Peko said after thirty minutes. It was still a bit to the address she had given him, but it was close enough that she’d be at the Togami estate in an hour if she walked, which she needed to do if she was to avoid suspicion. 

“Are you sure? It’s a bit of a walk to the house from here.” He stopped the taxi and turned back to give his passenger a perplexed look.

“I like to walk.” Peko told him, which she supposed was true enough. She wasn’t allowed to like or dislike things, but she couldn't help preferring some things over others. She couldn't help being human, even if she repressed her humanity as much as she could. 

“Alrighty.” The driver shrugged and watched as she dug out $200 in cash and handed it to him. “Have a good day, kid. Don’t take any wooden nickels.”

This odd display of friendliness from the taxi driver left Peko feeling confused, so she left the taxi and pretended that he didn’t say anything. Once the taxi was out of sight, she made her way through the woods, avoiding the road as much as she could so that she would have a good escape path if and when things went sour. Going through all the trees made things much more complicated and it ended up taking her nearly an hour to get to the estate, but it would be worth it in the end.

Peko took the burner phone out of the bag and called the phone number on the piece of paper. After ringing for a few seconds, someone picked up.

“Hello?” The voice through the phone greeted. 

“Is this Togami?” Peko questioned, deciding to forego greetings for the sake of timeliness. 

“Ah, I take it you’re from the Kuzuryuu clan. Do you have my money?” 

“Check your accounts. $20 million exactly.”

There was a pause and Peko could distantly hear the sound of a keyboard clicking and then a small chuckle. 

“Well, I’ll be damned. $20 million. Come inside, then. I’ll give you your heir.” Togami hung up the phone and Peko through it back in her bag. She grabbed her disguised sword and put it in a sheath that she tied to the belt loop of her jeans before cautiously approaching the estate in a way that would make it seem that she came from the road.

Ringing the doorbell was unnecessary. Before she even got on the porch, a butler was holding the door open for her.

Peko let out an instinctive “Thank you, sir,” before entering the house. The butler silently lead her into a rather large drawing room. She stood behind one of the couches, deciding that it would be best not to sit. She was not a guest here, or at least would not be for long.

Peko stood there for quite some time, keeping her gaze firmly on the door and her hand near her sword. After what seemed to be an eternity, the door opened. In came the youngest Togami, the one she had spoken with on the phone. To Peko’s shock, he seemed to be about her age. After him came three bodyguards, and after them came Fuyuhiko. There was a split second in which he seemed not to recognize her (Where were her braids? Her red eyes? Her sailor suit uniform?) but that lasted only a second. Beneath the disguise, he could tell it was Peko and he repressed the instinct to run over to her and instead took slow, deliberate steps to her side.

“Please sit.” Togami commanded, taking his own advice and sitting down on the couch opposite to the one they were standing behind.

In the same instant that Peko said “I’m quite alright where I am, thank you,” Fuyuhiko said “Fuck you! You think after holding me in a basement for god-knows-how-long that I’m gonna listen to you? No way, you anglerfish-lookin’ motherfucker!” 

Peko glanced over at him, a small smirk playing on her lips. If they had been alone, she would’ve chuckled, but she still needed to keep her composure. He looked back at her and was overwhelmed by the joyous feeling that one gets after passing a level in a videogame that had been giving them an unprecedented amount of trouble. 

“Well, either way, I looked into the money that had been quite generously and quickly given. It didn’t take me long to figure out that the money was fake, Pekoyama--and yes, I do know that it’s you, that foolish disguise isn’t tricking anyone. So…” With a smirk, Togami moved his hand and in a split second, two of the bodyguards had their guns pressed to Peko and Fuyuhiko’s temples. The third stood behind Togami, his hand on a machine gun.

Togami smirked as he took in the sight, his hands folded in his lap. “Now, I can get my guards to put their guns down and all of this can end nicely, but not until I get my money. So if Miss Pekoyama would be kind enough to retrieve her phone and call the Kuzuryuus to let them know.” 

Peko nodded and appeared to reach for her phone, but before doing that, she nodded at Fuyuhiko. He understood her instantly and began to struggle, sinking his teeth into his captor’s forearm. With the attention now focused on him, it was easy for Peko to get her sword and chop off the guard’s arm with one swift motion. He screamed and Peko heard the sound of machine gun fire. She hit the floor, grabbing Fuyuhiko with her free arm and pulling him down as well. 

The pair scrambled to get behind the couch with the guard that had been bitten following them, his gun pointed at Fuyuhiko. Peko moved in front of him and slashed at the guard with her sword. He fired recklessly, grazing her shoulder with a bullet but not properly hitting her. Soon enough, she had his gun and he was sans a leg. 

Peko tossed the gun to Fuyuhiko, who also had the pistol from the first guard. With a somewhat comical shut of “Yippee ki-yay, motherfucker!” he engaged the third guard in a shoot out. 

Recognizing the uselessness of a sword in a gunfight, she stayed behind the couch and looked at the guard whose arm she had cut off. He was still screaming in a very melodramatic manner, tears and snot running down his face. After staring at him for a second, Peko sighed. “I truly regret letting him watch the movie _Die Hard_.” 

“I heard that!” Fuyuhiko shouted over the gunfire. After one more shot, it suddenly stopped. Fuyuhiko had been able to hit the guard in the chest and he was now slumped against the wall. He jumped over the couch and pressed one of the pistols to Togami’s temple. Peko got up and pressed her sword to his neck, drawing a few little drops of blood.

“Now, here’s what’s gonna happen.” Fuyuhiko began. “You’re gonna call in your little butler and he’s gonna give me my shit back. He’s also gonna give us the keys to your Ferrari, and Peko and I are gonna leave. And you aren’t gonna call the cops, are you? Because you have cameras everywhere, and they’ll see that we were just acting in self-defense. So this’ll all end happily. Consider the fact that I’m not blowing your damn brains out as my family’s repayment. Got it?”

Togami, who looked paler than he had just a few minutes before, nodded. “Butler! Get Kuzuryuu’s things, along with they keys to the Ferrari.”

There was the sound of movement and soon enough, the butler re-entered holding a bag and a pair of keys. Fuyuhiko ripped these items from his hands, spat in Togami’s face, and then left the room. Peko followed behind him, keeping her face blank until they left the house.

“Holy shit, Peko! We have a Ferrari now!” He exclaimed, setting off the alarm so that he could find it and then jumping into the driver’s seat. Peko got into the passenger side and put both of their bags in the back of the car. She had just buckled in and was removing the wig when Fuyuhiko started driving.

“We do.” She confirmed as they sped off. Peko knew that with the time and the rules of his permit that he ought to have not been driving, but he looked so damn happy with his foot on the gas and the windows down and a grin on his face that she couldn’t insist he do anything else. Besides, this wasn't exactly a habitual thing for him. Fuyuhiko normally followed the rules with an insistence that would've shocked anyone who didn't him as she did. She knew that she should tell him that she had been fired, that once he got home that they would never be able to be like this again, but she couldn’t ruin it. It was selfish of her, but she wanted her last sight of him to be a happy one. 

“That was just so badass! You kicked ass, I kicked ass, you got rid of that wig--N-not that it was ugly, just that I like your hair better than some stupid wig!--and we got a fucking Ferrari out of the deal!” He rambled on as she took out her contacts and listened to him. Fuyuhiko avoided the cops as if he had done it a thousand times before and talked about how pissed he was at his parents for not paying on time, about his adventures in the Togami mansion, about how next week he might finally get his hands on a Degas painting if all went well with the art dealer from New York (he was in charge of the art dealing part of the Kuzuryuu business, and he loved it as much as he loved dual-weilding pistols in video games and fried dough cookies), and Peko had never loved him more than in that moment. Tools were not supposed to love, but she simple couldn’t help it. Days and weeks and years at his side made falling in love an inevitability instead of an impossibility. While she listened to him talk about the specifics of art dealing, she wondered how everyone on Earth wasn’t in love with him, how anybody could watch his eyes light up with passion and not be overwhelmed by the purity of his heart and the beauty of his soul. 

“Hey, Peko, you listenin’?” He asked, briefly looking away from the road to look at her.

She glanced down at her shoes in embarresment, not able to admit that she had been thinking more about the tone of his voice than the actual words he was saying. “I’m sorry, but I missed the last part of your question.” 

“It’s cool, no worries. I asked if you wanted to stop and grab something to eat. Your stomach was growling.”

While she loved the idea of stopping and not getting home until later, Peko knew that avoidance was useless and might just make the Kuzuryuus more upset with her. “I’m alright, I can eat when we return home.”

Fuyuhiko shrugged, looking back at the road. “If you say so. Oh, while I’m thinking about it, how’d you do the thing with the fake money?”

So Peko recounted the tale, leaving out the parts about her getting fired, and he occasionally interjected with little comments here and there, encouraging her to talk more. It was difficult for her to talk when she had to sit on her hands to keep from holding the one he never kept on the wheel, but she managed to do so. Far too soon for her liking, they arrived at the Kuzuryuu house that was on the edge of city limits. Sitting on the porch was her master, holding a suitcase and looking angry. 

“What’s his deal?” Fuyuhiko asked as they got out of the car. Peko avoided his gaze and instead grabbed her backpack and shrugged.

The master approached the car and shoved the suitcase in Peko’s arms. “What the fuck is going on?” Fuyuhiko asked, looking to his father for explanation.

“She’s fired.” He explained. “She failed to notice that the Togami’s were tailing us, figuring out when you would be separated. She failed to protect you. We have no room for failure in this house. Now come inside, Fuyuhiko. Girl, leave this place and do not return. Any attempts to contact my children will backfire on them. Am I clear?”

“No, you’re not fucking clear! That’s so stupid! One mistake and you’re firing her?! You can’t just do that! Where’s she gonna go? What are you gonna do without the best bodyguard in the country? God, are you fucking stupid?” Fuyuhiko stood in front of Peko and crossed his arms, looking up at his father. He was slapped cleanly across the face, the sound echoing in Peko’s ears.

“Don’t defy me. Now go inside.” He said coldly. “And you, leave this place.”

“No!” Fuyuhiko shot back, grabbing Peko’s arm. “I can’t just let you kick her out!” Although Peko couldn’t see his eyes, she could tell by the tone in his voice that he was crying, which nearly made her break down in tears. But she couldn’t do that, not now.

“Yes, you can, and yes, you will.” And with that said, Peko’s master, the man who had took her in when she was left on his door, pulled the ribbons from her hair, shoved her to the ground, and pulled Fuyuhiko inside.

“Peko!” He called back, turning around go get one last look at her. Just as she suspected, his eyes were filled with tears. She could only stare helplessly at him, clutching her bags and trying not to cry. “Peko, I--”

Before he could finish his sentence, he was shoved inside and the door was shut. Peko stared at the door for quite some time, trying to wrap her head around her current situation. By the time she gave up on doing that, the moon was hidden behind a cloud and it had begun to rain. She couldn’t stay here forever.

So by some miracle, Peko Pekoyama picked herself off of the ground and started walking. There was no job for her now, no one left to use her, no place on Earth for her to stay. She was a tool, a tool that was broken and useless and had been thrown in the trash. As she walked with no direction, Peko wished with all of her heart that Togami’s guard had pulled the trigger or that she had died when she was 10 and was stabbed in the chest or that she had never been born at all.


	2. The Last Avaliable Option

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it to chapter 2! Apologies for the amount of typos in the first chapter, I only noticed them yesterday. I've decided that this fic will be updated every week on Thursday, although I might be late some days.

Peko walked through the light summer rain, keeping her eyes trained on the ground. Her hands were wrapped so tightly around the handle of the suitcase that was given to her that her fingers turned an interesting shade of reddish purple. The color was fascinating to her and she would’ve looked at it forever, but she still had to move and the adrenaline was beginning to wear off, making her aware of the injuries she had sustained in her escape from the Togami estate. Peko knew she needed a place to stay so that she could treat her wounds and get a few hours of sleep before deciding where to go next.

She finally settled on a shady motel close to the airport that smelled faintly of vomit and kitty litter because she figured that if she slipped them an extra $100, they would give her a room despite not being 18. Peko guessed correctly, and soon enough she was given the keys to a room on the third floor. Her room also smelled faintly of vomit and kitty litter, with a small pinch of expired cough syrup and raw fish. Lovely. If she had cared more about her life and existence as a whole, she probably would’ve been bothered. Instead she wrinkled her nose, sat down, and began to go through her bags.

Almost exactly as before, the bookbag had a few thousand dollars, a burner cell phone, a few books, the remains of the disguise for her sword, her sword, her pointe shoes, her old clothes, a granola bar, and a list of people who owed her favors and their phone numbers. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, she counted out her money and put it in the front pocket of the bag. She now had $4,700, mostly in hundred and twenty dollar bills. Next she re-disguised her sword and put it under the books, just to avoid suspicion. She folded her old clothes and put them by the suitcase and then did the same with her pointe shoes. 

Peko moved onto the suitcase, curious as to what it could possibly contain. She saw a birth certificate and social security number for a Lucille Pekoyama, born on June 30th to Nadine Pekoyama and Takaaki Ishimaru and after frowning at the papers for a bit, she assumed that it must be her. The papers must’ve been with her when she was dropped off at the Kuzuryuu’s doorstep. She figured that she was called Peko because Lucille or Lucy was simply too girl-like, and they were not in the business of making a girl. It was odd to think that she had parents somewhere who were probably alive, that she might have siblings or half-siblings that were really people. It seemed impossible that there were other people connected to her through blood, and yet it must be true. 

Peko put the papers aside for now and looked through the rest of the suitcase. A few items of her clothes were thrown in there haphazardly, as if whoever had been in charge of packing it wanted to get it done as quickly as possible. Underneath all of the clothes were her school transcripts, a credit card, and a small note with the words “I’m sorry” written on it in Mrs. Kuzuryuu’s swirly handwriting. She examined the paper and then methodically ripped it into pieces and hurled it into the trash. Instead of them landing in the garbage, the pieces scattered across the room and she sighed before shutting the suitcase a bit more forcefully than necessary and laying down on the bed. 

Peko was exhausted, yet sleep seemed to be just out of her reach, as if she was trying to catch the stars in the sky. It seemed so close, and yet in reality it was untouchable. She rolled onto her back, knocking her suitcase off the bed in the process. The noise startled her enough that she sat up, and from there it seemed like a waste not to use this burst of energy to try and do something. After picking up her suitcase and putting everything back inside of it, she grabbed her backpack and her room key. Walgreens. That’s where she needed to go. Walgreens. Certainly there’d be bandages there, and probably food.

Before walking out the door, Peko decided to check herself for injuries so that she knew what to get. There was the part of her shoulder that had been grazed by a bullet, a few bruises on her leg from when she had so suddenly ducked behind the couch, and an ache in her scalp that must have occurred when her master yanked out the ribbons in her hair. Other than all of that, she was physically fine.

Although she didn’t know exactly where she was in the city, Peko knew that if you were in Chicago, you were never more than a five minute walk from a Walgreens. After a short walk, she did, in fact, find a Walgreens. She had no idea what time it was, but it must have been around 11 pm. In her limited knowledge of normal existence, she was able to figure out that people don’t typically go to Walgreens at 11 pm. Oh well. It wasn’t like she was in a typical situation at the moment.

The store was nearly empty, but its few inhabitants were very loud. There was an old woman on the phone, a man in his mid-twenties who looked high as a kite, and a gaggle of teenage girls. Peko grabbed a plastic basket and stared at the vast selection of bandages, unsure where to even begin.

“Um, e-excuse me, but do you need help finding a bandage?” A shaking, timid voice broke her concentration and Peko turned to see a girl about her age fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. “I volunteer at the hospital, so I know a lot about bandages!” 

Peko thought about it for the moment, giving the girl an analytical glance. She seemed to wither beneath her gaze, shrinking before her very eyes and letting out a tiny shriek so pathetic that Peko felt the need to give her a blanket and some form of reassurance. “Your input would be appreciated.” She said, attempting to soften her gaze so as not to scare the girl off.

The stranger seemed to perk up and started examining the wall of bandages. “A-alright! What sort of injury do you have?” 

“A scrape on my shoulder.

“How deep is it?”

“Not very, but it bled a lot.”

“Hm…Can I see it?” 

Peko gave no verbal response but instead just unzipped her hoodie and freed her injured left arm. The girl examined it, a concerned frown on her face.

“Oh no! That looks like it might get infected!” She said fretfully, grabbing two or three boxes of bandages and handing them to her. “Please, p-put one of these on as soon as possible!”

“I will.” Peko promised, putting her arm back in her hoodie.

“Do you...Do you want my number in case it gets worse? If you don’t, it’s okay! I-I’ll do whatever you want! I’ll even--”

The albino was wise enough to cut her off there, certain that her offer wouldn’t be something she was interested in. “Sure. I left my phone at my hotel room, so can you write it down?” She didn’t particularly care to get this girl’s number, but Peko had a feeling that if she had said no, the girl might’ve cried. 

“Of course!” The stranger pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper and frantically scribbled on it. “Oh, I forgot to ask you what your name was! I’m sorry, that was so rude of me.”

She paused for a moment, trying to figure out if she should say the name that was on her papers or the name she had been called her whole life. After an awkward pause, she decided just to give her surname. “Pekoyama. And yours is…?”

The girl handed Peko the piece of paper. “I’m Mikan. It’s a silly name, I know, I’m sorry.”

“I think it’s a perfectly fine name.” She said, putting the paper in her pocket and then grabbing a wound cleaner from the top shelf. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome!” Mikan chimed, smiling and flouncing away happily, enjoying being thanked. Peko watched her mood drop as soon as a childish voice called out “Hey pig barf, where are you?!” but the brief moment when the girl had been happy made her feel a little bit less like sleeping for seventy five years straight and then waking up dead. 

After grabbing the cheapest bottle of disinfectant she could find and a bottle of water, she head to the checkout area, which was being manned by a disgruntled-looking man in his thirties. The gaggle of girls that Mikan belonged to were still going around the store, having a loud debate about whether or not some girl named Junko would notice or care that they bought her nail polish at Walgreens instead of some fancy store. Peko felt so disconnected from that issue and the girls discussing it and everything in the store that it all might as well have been occurring on another planet. She never really felt connected to anyone but the Kuzuryuu clan and their associates, but now she was cut off from them as well. She was truly disconnected from everyone and everything, except for a hotel staff member she had bribed, a teenage girl with obvious self-esteem issues, and a cashier who looked so apathetic that she could have shot him where he stood and he probably wouldn't have cared. 

Peko took her stuff and handed it to the empty-eyed cashier. “Do you have any pens in this store?” She asked suddenly. She needed to cross names off of her contact list and add Mikan to it, and that required a pen.

“Just take this one, and tell your friends over there to hurry it up.” He said gruffly, tossing a pen at her. Peko caught it and examined it. In the history of everything she had ever seen, this pen had to be one of the most ridiculous. It was hot pink and had feathers on the end of it, as if it was a miniature peacock. On the plastic of the pen was the phrase _Hope’s Peak Halfway House: Where Hope Prevails!_ and an address for a location in the city. 

“I’m not with them.” Peko muttered, opening her bag to give him some money and put away her newly acquired pen. The cashier took the twenty and gave her what she had bought. After a quick stare down, the cashier slowly began to make change and handed her the money. Without another word, she stuck the money in her pocket and walked out the door. 

Her return to her hotel room was less than noteworthy. As soon as the door was shut, she stripped off the hoodie and the tank top under it so that she could more easily apply the bandage. Due to how dark the hoodie was, Peko hadn’t noticed exactly how much it had been bleeding. She knew it was bleeding a fair bit, but seeing the actual amount on a piece of fabric was disorienting. She had sustained many worse injuries before, but something felt significant about this bullet scrape.

The disinfectant stung when she poured it over the wound, and Peko clenched her teeth together as she finished cleaning it out. Wrapping it up was slow business, not only because of pain but because of the odd maneuvering she had to do to properly apply the bandage to her own shoulder. She heard her stomach rumble and knew she should eat, but the siren call of sleep was too alluring to her. So she moved her luggage, got under the covers, and buried her head in the pillows. 

After nearly falling asleep twice, Peko realized what she had forgotten to do: she forgot to turn out the lights. Now that she was laying down, it seemed like too much work to get up and turn it off. Normally she would have done this without a second thought, but everything that had given her the energy to be productive was gone. All of her motivation was locked in a house she could never enter again and residing in a boy who would get beaten if she dared to try and talk to him. So she buried her head in pillows and under blankets, she squeezed her eyes shut and twisted away from the brightness, but the light was persistent. It insisted that she move, that she get up and do something if she wanted to get rest. The stained light switch seemed to be taunting her from the other side of the room. _If you want me to go away, then get up and do something_ , it seemed to say. _Fix it now or stay awake forever_. 

Peko tossed and turned for what felt like hours before she got so sick of it that she got up and made her way towards the light switch. It was right by the door to her room, and as she approached it, she remembered the pen she had gotten and why she got it. That’s right, there were still things to do. She could shove it off until morning and was tempted to do just that, but Peko figured that she might feel better if she knew she had a better idea of who she could contact for help (if anyone) come morning. 

Peko dug the list out of her bag and looked over the names. She crossed out the ones that owed her master favors, which left her with three names. She knew that at least one of those three people were dead, so he got crossed off and now she was left with two. After some thought, she added Mikan to the list although she wasn’t exactly going to go and stay with a girl she just met at a Walgreens.

She examined the remaining names closely and tried to decide between them. Peko only knew a few words of Spanish, so going to Cuba was out. That left her to find a way to Siberia or to go somewhere else entirely and be all on her own. 

“Siberia.” She decided, circling the name and number that went along with the location. Peko had no idea what this person’s actual name or even what their gender was, just that they went by Alyosha the Ice Pick and hated anyone who wielded a machine gun or ate Swiss cheese. Peko never asked why. All she knew was that the Ice Pick was her last hope. 

Finally, Peko turned off the obnoxious neon lights and succumbed to sleep, letting it pull her under and away from where she was now. She dreamt of an unremarkable summer day by her young master’s side, a day where they hung out and she trained and then they hung out some more and ended up falling asleep on the living room couch, with one hand on her sword and the other hand almost touching his as the air conditioner whirled. 

Waking up from that dream was a horrid disappointment. She was awoken by the couple in the room next to hers having a fight. Peko glanced over at the clock and saw that it was eight am, two hours until checkout. 

She got the world's fastest shower, having a distinct feeling that the shower in this place would only serve to make her dirtier. Peko didn't bother to dry her hair, or even brush it. Instead she just braided it and frowned at her reflection. It was odd to see her pigtail braids without their ribbons. The changing of the bandage was uneventful, as was getting dressed. Peko left the hotel after leaving a tip on the table for whatever unfortunate maid worked in this place. She wordlessly placed her key on the counter of the lobby and checked out without saying a thing. 

As she wandered aimlessly through the city, Peko couldn't help but think about how things were back at the only home she ever knew. Fuyuhiko was most likely still upset, and thinking about him in any sort of pain hurt her as well. But he’d get over it eventually. She was a replaceable tool. The young mistress probably didn’t care, but the mistress was most likely still fighting with her husband about the decision. Peko was filled with worry as she thought about Fuyuhiko being put in the middle of their fight without her being there to stop them. Her pace increased as she thought of this and she ended up walking around the same block three times before she noticed. Rather embarrassed by this, Peko quickly left the area.

Somehow or another, she found herself at the airport. That was a good thing. You couldn't exactly get to Siberia by train, after all. The international hub airport was familiar to her, so she navigated it easily. It was comforting to see a familiar setting, a place she could walk around with her eyes closed and still not get lost. As she waited in the security line, she started mentally tallying up the cost of the plane ticket, the food she would have to buy in order to function (God, she was hungry), the cost of rent for a room in Siberia, and various other expenses. As the cost grew, so did Peko’s uncertainty. How could she pull this off? Where could she go if this failed? There were an infinite amount of questions and none of them had clear or easy answers. What was most disturbing was that she had no higher authority to defer to. Kuzuryuu rules didn’t apply when she was no longer in their house. 

Once she was through security, she decided to get something to eat. Her stomach was making obnoxious grumbling noises and she was getting a few odd looks because of it. For the sake of conserving money, Peko went to the cheapest restaurant she could find. In this case, it was McDonald's.

Standing at the cash register was a white-haired boy about her age. He looked far too happy for someone working at McDonald's during breakfast hours, but she said nothing of it. 

“Hello! Welcome to McDonald's! What would you like?” He questioned, looking her directly in the eye. Peko read his name tag, taking note of it. Nagito Komaeda. The first person to look her in the eye since being kicked out.

“A hashbrown, a fruit parfait, and an egg McMuffin please.” Peko decided after a moment. The brief pause caused the woman behind her to let out a huff of annoyance. She turned to look at this stranger and watched her take a step backwards and avoid her gaze. There weren’t many advantages to being a stressed out albino, but the “Don’t fuck with me” facial expression with the addition of red eyes was definitely one. Komaeda gave her an even more terrifying expression, a blank smile that somehow seemed even more menacing than her glare. 

Nagito typed something on the screen and then turned his attention back to her, speaking with a purposeful slowness. “Alright! A good choice. Anything to drink with that?” 

“...Water.” Peko said with a deliberate pause because this stranger was doing so and it was somewhat amusing to make the woman wait a little longer.

“Water.” Nagito parroted back to her as her receipt printed. “Just wait over there and I’ll call you back up when your breakfast is finished! What’s your name?” He gestured to a spot a few feet right of the register.

Now Peko’s pause was a genuine one. The name on her papers or the name she had been called her whole life or just her surname, a weak identifier that never changed? What name was the credit card Mrs. Kuzuryuu under? Would that even matter? “Pekoyama.” 

Nagito seemed to notice the pause, but he wrote down the name anyhow, giving her a look of mild concern. She quickly left to the other line after that, unable to deal with that facial expression for much longer. 

The long wait would’ve perhaps irritated Peko, but since she still didn’t have any place to be, she didn’t mind. She honestly preferred it. Being in line meant that she had some sort of purpose, even if it was something as simply as waiting to get food. It seemed to drag on and on until finally she heard a voice clearly call out “Pekoyama!”

She approached the counter and there was Nagito, holding a bag and her receipt. She silently handed the money over to him and he gave her another smile. _He must be an opposite version of me,_ Peko thought to herself. _He can’t stop smiling, and I can barely smile at all._

“Have a great day, Pekoyama! Enjoy your flight!” He chirped as they exchanged items. She waited as he made change and when he offered her the money, she merely shook her head.

“Keep it.” Peko told him. She figured that she should try to do something nice for the first person to properly look at her since being discarded. “And have a good day.”

She turned away and started searching for a table before he could respond. As she ate, Peko mentally went over what she was going to say when she called Alyosha, going out of her way to even think in Russian. It would be a simple conversation. She’d tell them who she was and that she needed a place to stay for some time, that she’d do whatever work was necessary to get it. They’d most likely say yes, since they owed her. Then she’d buy a ticket for the next flight to Siberia and tell them when exactly she would arrive, and they'd come and get her from the airport and Peko would tell them what had happened. After that, it would all be easy. 

When she finished eating her food, Peko looked at her receipt. On the top of it was her last name, written in clumsy and rushed capital letters and beneath it in much better handwriting was the phrase _Have hope!_ She snickered at it but somehow couldn't make herself throw it away. It was such a stupid thing to keep, but she folded it up and kept it anyways because she couldn’t remember anyone but Fuyuhiko doing something remotely similar to her. 

She found the least crowded terminal and sat in a seat towards the back. After a quick glance around to make sure that no one was watching her, she pulled out her phone and dialed the number for Alyosha the Ice Pick.

The phone rang and rang and rang, but no one picked up. After about two minutes of listening to dial tone, she was directed to voicemail.

“Alyosha,” she began softly, just in case she was being listened to. “It’s Pekoyama. Call me back.” 

Peko hung up and stared at a wall for a while, checking her phone every minute for a call. This got boring after a while, so she fished out the book she got from the library yesterday. She tried to drown herself in the distant English moors and the crazed passion of strangers who never existed, but she’d sometimes find herself losing focus and going back to checking her burner every few minutes until she got bored once again and started reading.

She finished the book and was thinking about the ending when the phone rang. “Hello?”

“Pekoyama, listen. I can't call you until tomorrow, the Shadow People are on my tail.” They said in a conspiratorial whisper.

“The Shadow People?” Peko repeated, her tone doubtful. They had always been on edge, but was the Ice Pick now completely mad? What Shadow People?

“The Shadow People. Shit, they’re back again!” With that, she was hung up on. Well, she could live with crazy. Just if they would be willing to let her stay.

The rest of the day was spent in a horrid daze. She read and switched terminals when she felt someone staring at her for too long and tried not to feel anything. Peko ended up at the same McDonald’s as before. This time she ended up being served by a Hajime Hinata, who took his break a little after she ordered and ended up sitting at her table. Neither of them had spoken to each other, but she somehow felt comfortable around him. 

That night, Peko Pekoyama didn’t bother going to a hotel. Instead she slept curled up in a chair at a terminal, taking the bloodstained hoodie from her suitcase and using it as a blanket. She woke up every two hours to check to see if Alyosha had called, but there was nothing. Night melted into morning with no real difference to her. At some point, as she was in the middle of checking her phone, she heard someone call out to her. 

She looked towards the source of the noise and there was Nagito, waving his arm. Ignoring him would cause a scene, so Peko got up and head towards him, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Good morning, Pekoyama! Still waiting for a flight?” He asked her cheerfully, and then his face fell. “Ah, it was wrong of me to pry, I’m sorry. Someone like me has no right to ask.”

The sudden shift in his mood made her suspicious of him, but Peko could find no clear way to avoid him. “You remembered me? And yes, the time got changed for the flight.” It was a lie, but it was a harmless one. He’d probably never see her again after Alyosha called and gave her a place to stay.

“Of course I did! I remember all of my customers.” Nagito said proudly. “It’s all I can do. I just started my break right now, and Hajime should be joining us soon. He’s my friend. Would you like some company?”

Peko was very tempted to say no, but she figured that maybe she’d get the call if she wasn’t thinking about it, and it would be nice to play pretend at being a normal American teen before leaving. “I suppose it would be nice.”

The white-haired boy smiled as if Peko told him that he won the lottery. “Fantastic! And there’s Hajime. Hajime!”

It was hard to tell which brunet blob was Hajime, but as he came closer, Peko figured it out from the piece of hair that stuck out straight out from the top of his head. It looked somewhat absurd, but she had no right to criticize since she had slept in an airport terminal and certainly looked the part. 

“Hello again, Nagito. And…” He paused, waiting for Peko to tell him her name.

“Pekoyama.” She told him. 

“Nice to meet you. Were you here yesterday?” Hajime asked, following as Nagito gestured for them to sit at a table.

“I was. My flight got changed.” 

“That’s unfortunate. Where are you going?” 

“Russia.” Peko answered, sitting down. 

“Russia? Do you have family there?” Nagito interjected with that question. There was a glimmer in his eyes that set Hajime on edge. Komaeda seemed to know something and was obviously keeping it from him right now. 

Peko considered lying and saying that she was visiting family, but then she’d be asked who and what for and a million other things. That lie could get too big and collapse. “I don’t.” She told him simply, although that might not have been true either. She could have family in Siberia for all she knew.

There was an awkward pause after that which was broken by Peko’s phone ringing. “Excuse me a minute.” She told them, outwardly keeping her cool as she answered.

“Pekoyama? You there?” The voice she recognized as Alyosha’s filled her ears and she sighed in relief.

“I’m here.” She confirmed in Russian, turning her face away from Hajime and Komaeda.

“Nagito, what do you know?” Hajime asked in a whisper, frowning at him.

“She ran into Mikan two days ago at Walgreens. Mentioned she was staying at a hotel and had what looked like a bullet wound in her shoulder.” He told him, glancing over at the girl he only knew by her surname. “Didn’t give her a first name, either. Just Pekoyama.”

While Nagito was saying this, Peko was listening to the longest ramble of bullshit she had ever heard in her life. After a solid minute of rambling about Shadow People, she came to the conclusion that the Ice Pick was faking a schizophrenic meltdown (she had seen schizophrenic meltdowns, and they weren’t like this). 

“Alyosha, you’re lying.” She said simply. “I don’t care why, but you don’t even believe what you’re saying. Listen, I’ll help you get out of whatever mess you’re in now, but I need a place to stay. I--”

“That’s...strange to say the least, but she supposedly has a plane ticket to Russia and a place to stay over there. If not, we can try to talk her into going to Hope’s Peak for at least the night.” Hajime decided, and Komaeda gave him a somewhat comical pout.

“I was hoping to give her clues to get there and let her prove that she deserves to stay at Hope’s Peak, but I guess her hope is bright enough that your plan could work. Who am I to question it? I’m just a--”

“Shut up, Komaeda.” He said, noticing that Pekoyama was giving them a look as she listened to a lengthy explanation of why Alyosha couldn’t help her. The individual words themselves stopped meaning anything to her but she listened anyways, trying to figure out what to do now.

“You owe me, Alyosha.” Peko said in English. “You owe me a favor. I’m calling that favor in right now. Help me find a place or--” Before she could finish her sentence, he hung up. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, her glasses riding up on her face. Her eyes closed as she tried to make sense of her situation.

“So...I take it your flight is canceled.” Nagito commented. Peko opened her eyes and gave him a glare so fierce that he glanced down at his hands.

“An astute observation, Nagito.” She told him, closing her eyes once more.

“If you need a place to stay, Hope’s Peak will let you stay for a few nights.” Hajime told her. “Nagito and I both live there. So does Mikan.”

Peko considered that option, remembering the pen in her bag. It seemed like a stupid place, but the idea of a bed and food tempted her enough that she decided a night at a halfway house wouldn’t kill her. “A night won’t hurt me, I suppose.”

“Fantastic!” Nagito interjected. “Once our shift’s over, we’ll take you there! Until then, a coffee? You look tired.”

“A coffee also won’t hurt me. Just black coffee, please.” She got some money from her bag and Nagito was off to get her coffee. Hajime gave her a sympathetic smile and Peko tried to return it, but soon gave up on the concept.

Time flew after that. She sipped on the endless supply of coffee that Nagito insisted on supplying her and read some more. Peko tried to conjure up an image of the halfway house in her mind, but she came up with a blank. Before she knew it, both of their shifts were over and the three of them were exiting the airport and heading to Hope’s Peak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of keeping the narrative easier for all of us lame Dangan Ronpa fans, I'm just going to keep referring to Peko as Peko, althogh some characters might make a point of referring to her as Lucille or Lucy. Probably Lucy. Also, Alyosha is everyone's favorite SHSL imposter. Prepare to meet a bunch of characters next chapter, and please tell me what you think so far! Thanks for reading!


	3. Welcome to Despair Academy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this chapter is a little bit shorter than usual because a) a lot happens, b) the other ending point would've made the chapter waaaaaaay too long. With that said, enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think!

Peko didn't speak much as the three of them walked along. Nagito did most of the talking, saying things about various people who live there. She listened to his words and watched Hajime’s reactions, and through this she figures out the truth of things. As she suspected, Mikan was as insecure as she appears and the situation she came from was utterly horrifying. The obnoxious girl that called Mikan pig barf is Hiyoko, and she apparently does that all of the time. Still, in Peko's opinion, Nagito didn’t criticize her properly. He didn't seem criticize anyone but himself because they supposedly have some sort of talents. Mikan is a great nurse, Hiyoko can dance, some fellow named Kazuichi can fix anything, and the list just went on and on, and Komaeda was more than happy to rattle it off for her listening pleasure. Soon the topic turns to the Junko at the center of the red nail polish debate, which causes both of them to cringe.

“No matter what, don’t listen to Junko. She’s…” Nagito paused, trying to find a good word.

“A massive bitch?” Hajime suggested, sticking his hands in his pockets.

“More than that. She's evil incarnate.” Nagito decided that phrase did her justice. “Don’t let her get to you. She worms her way into people's heads and _ruins_ them.”

Peko couldn’t help but think he’s being melodramatic, but she nodded along anyhow. “Anyone else I should be wary of?” She asked, as if she had intentions of not being wary of everyone.

“Hm...Mostly everyone’s decent to each other, and even the ones that have trouble with it are usually decent people on the inside. Usually. But Fukawa gets violent if she gets too upset, and does Akane. Kirigiri can be intimidating, but she’s mostly harmless and in France at the moment anyhow. Celestia’s the same, but she’s not in France. Hiyoko is...Well, she’s Hiyoko.  
Mondo and Leon both have tempers, and Teruteru has too much fun looking up girl’s skirts. I'd tell you to be wary of Yamada, too, but I don't think you're his type.” Hajime told her the names, counting them off on his fingers.

“That’s a blessing in disguise.” Nagito interjected as a large building that looked like a hotel came into view. “And that’s Hope’s Peak. It used to be a hotel, but when it got sold, Monomi bought it up and turned it into the best halfway house in the state.” When Komaeda spoke of Hope’s Peak, a strange and somewhat disturbing light came into his eyes. While Peko was typically weary of everyone, she decided to be extra cautious around him. There was something about that expression that dhe simply couldn’t trust, even if Nagito had been nothing but kind to her. After he finished his explanation, Komaeda lunged for the door and held it open for Hajime and Peko in a manner best described as butler-esqe, which only served to make her feel more disturbed. 

Entering the lobby felt like entering a whole different world. Kids and teens of all ages were running around, doing various things. A group of ten-year-olds seemed very involved in a game of Zombie, being trailed by a giggling girl in a wheelchair and a boy trying to stop them. Sitting on a couch was a girl with the largest black pigtails Peko’s ever seen. Next to her was an empty-eyed girl with light pink hair who was absorbed in a handheld game. Speaking to the girl with the black pigtails was a loud blonde who looked like a supermodel. At the piano was a girl with multi-colored streaks in her hair who was playing something ridiculously loud as a red-haired boy laughed. A group of boys was eating happily in a corner. They were too far away for Peko to make out any clear features. Hajime went over to them and Komaeda head to the elevator, presumably to tell someone that she was here. 

The girl in the wheelchair noticed Peko first and gave her a pleasant but hollow smile. “Hello!” She said cheerfully, rolling her way over. “I’m Monaca! Are you staying here?”

“It would appear I am, at least for the next few nights.” She answered cautiously, deciding it would be best not to let her guard down even around the children.

All of the other kids dropped their game and joined Monaca and soon Peko was being tugged towards the loud blonde who seemed to make a point of not noticing her. It wasn't until the red-haired little boy with headphones around his neck let out a loud cry of “Junkooooooooooooooooooo!” that she looked at them. She was wearing a canary-eating grin that made Peko feel even more on edge and she subconsciously reached for a sword that wasn’t there.

“Well, who is this?” She asked, grabbing Peko by the waist and forcing her into her lap. Peko started to move away, but the blonde hugged her tighter. “Now, now, violence is prohibited in this upstanding institution.” She cooed into the albino's ear, her cherry red fingernails digging into the skin of Peko’s waist. 

“Let go of me.” Peko replied forcefully, tensing all of her muscles and preparing to get as far away from this blonde as she can.

“Mmmm…No. I don’t want to.” Junko declared, laughing as she pressed her face into her unfortunate victim’s shoulder. “Now loosen up! You’re tense as hell, which is sort of sexy but probably really bad for your muscles.” 

“If you don’t let go of me, you’ll force to me hurt you in order to get away. I don’t want to do that, but I will not hesitate.” She warned, looking around the lobby in the hopes of finding someone willing and able to get this person off of her. 

“Don’t be mean to Junko!” The girl not in the wheelchair complained, grabbing one of Peko’s hands. “I’m gonna paint your fingernails later! It’ll be totally adorbs. Did you know that your fingernails look like they grow after you die? They actually don’t, but your skin shrivels up and makes it look like they do. Your hair does the same thing.”

Peko had nothing to say to that, but luckily she didn't have to say anything. 

“Junko, please, we’ll never get her to talk unless you let go of her. There’ll be time for you to make her profoundly uncomfortable later.” The other pigtailed girl added, and Junko let out a loud huff, gave Peko a kiss in the space where her jaw met her neck, and shoved her off of her lap. Peko moved as far away from her as she could get while still being on the couch. 

“Go back to playing Zombie, you guys.” Junko told the kids, who all nodded and were then off like a shot. 

“Now then,” Peko’s savior began, smoothing out her skirt. “I’m Celestia. That’s Junko. To my left is Chiaki, who won’t even notice that you exist until she finishes her current level or that she’s being mentioned in conversation. And you are…?”

“Pekoyama. According to some papers I received a few days ago, my first name is Lucille, but I've been called Peko my whole life.” She explained, rubbing the spot on her jaw where this first kiss she had ever received was planted. The suddenness of the action caught her off-guard enough to answer the next question truthfully, which was altogether uncomfortable. The whole experience was uncomfortable, if she was being honest with herself. Peko sincerely hoped that her next kiss (if she ever received another) wouldn’t be like the first. 

“Peko Pekoyama...That’s absolutely hideous! Did your parents, like, totally hate you?” Junko asked, still wearing that grin which made Peko feel mildly homicidal, and she wasn’t even supposed to have feelings. 

“Presumably.” She answered stiffly. 

The obvious discomfort she caused appeared to please Junko very much. “Well, I’m calling you Lucy now. Lucy's a cute name. You're a cute girl.” 

Peko shrugged, figuring that there wouldn’t be a lot of time left for her to be called Lucy anyhow. If she ended up staying for more than a few nights, she was certain that she’d die within the month by trying to fulfil her duty even after being fired. That thought disturbed her, but now was not the time to think about it. Such thoughts were meant for isolation at the middle of night, not colorful lobbies in bright daylight. “That’s fine.”

“So, Peko, how long do you intend to stay? I personally don't care, but they give the nicest rooms to those who only intend to stay for a night. The luxury draws them in like flies to honey.” Celestia looked at Peko intensely and she felt the need to hide away from this girl’s gaze. 

“I’m only staying for a few nights, although I haven’t given it much thought.” Peko admitted, unable to think much further into her future than the next few minutes and then a jump cut to her eventual death within the month. The thought had hit her suddenly, but it lingered. Peko was absolutely certain she would not live to see the last week of August.

“I would suggest thinking about it more. Perhaps I could help you figure out your best options.” Celestia offered politely, smiling at the newcomer. Peko frowned as she tried to make sense of this sudden change from total apathy to friendly offers.

Junko saw an opportunity to turn the spotlight back on herself and jumped on it, leaning forward as she spoke. “That’s a super uncreative way to get Hope Fragments, Celes, and it’ll only work for one time. What you gotta do is something more subtle! Like this.” She turned towards Peko, who was now trying to figure out what Hope Fragments were. “Hey, have you ever taken any dance lessons?”

“I have, but I fail to see what that has to do with anything.” She raised an eyebrow at Junko, who was now smiling a more innocent and sickly sweet smile.

“That’s great! You know, I could reaaaaaaaaally use your help with the musical then, because I did the choreography last year, but since I'm the assistant director this year, I can’t do it all by myself!” She tilted her head to the side and grabbed one of Peko’s hands as she spoke, purposefully digging her nails into the colorless skin of her wrist. “If you're going to stay here, you have to have at least one extracurricular school activity, and I think you’d be a great choreographer! Your presence is so authoritative and strong, but really patient. You'd be such a perfect fit for the job, and I'd definitely owe you one.”

Peko was tempted to refuse the offer, but rejecting this girl would be the equivalent of shooting yourself in the temple. The fingernails in her wrist were a subtle warning that Peko clearly understood. “If I end up staying here, I don’t see the harm in assisting. And what are those Hope Fragments you mentioned earlier?”

“Fantastic! And don’t worry, Monomi will explain that soon enough if you end up staying here.” Junko waved off her question and turned back to Celestia. “See, that’s how you do it. Ask a personal question, see how you can use it to get them to do something that helps you while also fulfilling their needs, and set it up so that way you’ll have to talk to them more and get more Hope Fragments! Your method isn’t _awful_ , but mine is much more effective.” 

“On the contrary, I think my method is best. It makes me appear much more selfless. I offer my assistance, they let me help them, and I gain both a Hope Fragments and someone who owes me a favor.” Celestia countered, folding her legs and looking at the space right above Junko's head.

“Yes, but the knowledge that they’re in debt to you makes them squeamish! Take a look at little Lucy here for example, do you think she--” Before Peko was forced to listen to a psychoanalysis of herself and how it related to her Hope Fragment collection method, Komaeda returned followed by an absurdly short woman dressed in all pink.

“Hello dear! I’m Miss Monomi! Please come with me, I’ll help you get set up!” She beamed at Peko, revealing a set of pearly white teeth so bright that she figured they must be a light source. However, Peko was more than happy to leave the company of Celestia and Junko and the silent, unobservant Chiaki. 

“Catch ya later, Lu-Lu!” Junko purred from the couch, waving one perfectly-manicured hand. Celestia too turned around to wave at Peko as she followed after Monomi. Just before she reached the elevator, she saw Nagito begin to say something to Junko and wondered what on Earth those two would have to say to each other. 

Once the elevator doors closed, Monomi began to babble. “Welcome to Hope's Peak! I’m sure you'll be weally, weally happy here, no matter how long you stay! What’s your name, sweetie? Nagito said he didn’t know.”

“I've been called Peko my whole life, but according to the papers I received a few days ago, my legal name is Lucille.” She quoted almost exactly what she said to Celestia just a minute before.

“Which do you pwefer?” The woman asked, readjusting her red curls as the elevator opened.

“Either one, I suppose. It doesn't really matter.” Peko said with a shrug, following her into a room that appeared to be her office. Everything in it was disgustingly pink and cutesy and sugar-coated, so much so that she wondered if increased exposure to this room would give her diabetes. She sat down in a pink chair across from a pink desk that was surrounded by pink walls at a pink painting right above Monomi’s desk. It was all so over-the-top that she wondered if it could even be real.

“Of couwse it matters! It’s your name!” Monomi explained, sitting at her desk. “Do you have your papers with you?” 

“Then call me Peko.” She decided, opening her suitcase and pulling out the birth certificate and school transcripts and everything else. Peko set them on the desk and then folded her hands in her lap, sitting up straight and keeping her eyes trained on that painting. 

Monomi cleared her throat as she examined the papers. “Okay, Peko...Where have you been living?” 

“At the airport for the last day or two, but until then I had been staying with the family who took me in.” She answered curtly, not liking the concept of giving away personal information to this woman who eerily reminder her of a cartoon rabbit from a children's TV show. 

“And they are…?”

The idea of this woman possibly talking to the Kuzuryuus horrified Peko and so she simply decided not to tell her. “I am not to disclose that information.”

“Oh dear! Did they tell you to say that?” She asked, giving her a glance that was supposed to be concerned but instead looked childishly pouty.

“Not explicitly.” 

“So you just do want to tell me?”

“Something like that, yes.” Peko admitted, which caused the pouty look on Monomi’s face to intensify. 

“Hm.” Monomi’s phone began to ring and she glanced at it with an even more intense pout. Peko wondered if her lip was going to explode, which would’ve been useful. This woman’s demeanor annoyed her and her lip exploding would certainly stop her from talking. That would be fantastic. Even if she wasn’t supposed to have opinions differing from those of her master, she couldn't help but be annoyed by Minomi. Then again, she couldn't see any of the Kuzuryuus liking her either, so Peko assumed this emotion was alright. “Well, I can get back to Kyouko later. I’m suwe her flight will be just fine! Now, can you tell me how you ended up here? I want to be able to help, but I can’t help unless I find out what’s wwong!” 

Peko sighed softly and decided to tell Monomi an abridged version of the tale. “I was adopted by the family I lived with as an infant to do a job for them. I failed to properly do my job, so they kicked me out and told me not to return. Since my parents abandoned me as an infant, I assume they don’t want me. I don’t have any friends that would be willing to let me stay with them. And so I ended up here. I think I'll leave in the morning.”

Monomi listened attentively and nodded a few times, handing her a piece of candy from a bowl. Peko shook her head and put it back. “I’m so sowwy you had to go through that, sweetheart! Why don't we get you a room and get you set up and I'll see if I can contact your parents and work something out with them. I’m also going to have you take a few tests later, just to see if you’re alright. A few little bubble sheets, nothing too hard. I really think you should stay a little longer than a night, though!”

“...Alright.” Peko agreed, picking up her suitcase and readjusting her backpack. Monomi lead her go the elevator again and soon they were on the third floor. There was a small space in the middle of the hallway that the elevator opened to, and sitting down on a couch in this space was Mikan. She glanced up and saw Peko and gave her a small smile. Peko attempted to return it, but must’ve been unsuccessful because she shrunk back into the couch and let out a nervous squeak. 

The room she was given was, just as Celestia predicted, very nice. The queen bed looked incredibly soft and the window gave her a nice view of the city, which Peko figured that she’d like when she felt like looking at something other than the back of her eyelids. 

Monomi watched her newest resident look around for a moment before speaking again in her high pitched, childish voice. “If you end up staying, there's a little guide on the table to your eHandbook and the Hope Fragments! It was written by a few of our very own residents! There’s also a list of numbers by the phone for things like room service or other rooms. Before I go, do you need anything?” 

“I’m fine.” Peko said bluntly, setting her suitcase down. After looking at Monomi, who looked rather upset, she added a soft “Thank you for your offer.” 

This statement seemed to make the redhead feel better and she smiled widely at her new charge. “My pleasure! Also, as per Hope's Peak rules, you have to leave the door open just a crack until lights out at ten! Now get some west!” With that, Monomi flounced off.

Peko closed the door as much as she could, leaving just two or three inches open. It made her uneasy to leave the door open like that, but she supposed there was a reason for that rule to be in place. She closed the curtains, leaving the room in a state of semi-darkness. The place seemed to be more like a bedroom than a hotel room, which was comforting. She started to unpack her things, stacking the books neatly on the floor and putting her clothes in the drawers that were provided. The only thing she left in her bags was the money and the credit card. 

After that, she debated whether she should get a shower or sleep. She decided on the shower, since she smelled like an airport McDonald's and cheap motel and there was only so long one can stand that particular mixture of scents. Once she got in, she was too tired to get out and ended up showering for nearly an hour. Peko only stepped out once the water was too cold to bear and dressed in her most comfortable clothes. It was then that she saw the pamphlet Monomi referenced and she grabbed it, deciding to give it a quick read.

The first section was titled _How To Get Hope Fragments_ and it showed a little character select page with the girl known as Chiaki selected. The next page showed her playing video games along with a figure labeled as _You_ There were little speech bubbles with nothing written in them but scribbles that implied lots of conversation. After that was a drawing of Chiaki typing something into what looked like an iPad (it was labeled _eHandbook_ ), and then a bubble that said _Hope Fragment Obtained!_ There was a blank page and then a section titled _eHandbook_. It showed the name, age, likes, dislikes, and Hope Fragments of someone called Chihiro Fujisaki. It even included a small picture of them smiling shyly. There were detailed explanations of how to give Hope Fragments and how to add information for just you and how to add information for everyone to see and a million other things. The people credited on the last page were Chiaki, Chihiro, Mondo (Peko chuckled at that, trying to imagine the ex-gangster drawing these pictures), and Hajime. Once she finished flipping through it, Peko put it back on the nightstand.

She laid down on the soft bed and turned onto her side so that her back was facing the door and her eyes were fixated on the space between wall, window, and curtain. Despite her exhaustion, sleep felt impossibly far away. All she could think about was her death. Peko imagined a million different situations, all of them soon, in which she did as she was supposed to and laid down her life for her young master or his family. At first she was disturbed that she was dreaming of such things, but then it brought her comfort. There’d be no need to worry about Hope Fragments or where she would stay or what she should do with her life. All of her problems melted away in the face of death, and only when she thought of fulfilling her duty as the unfeeling tool she was supposed to be did she feel calm enough to sleep.


	4. The Carousel of Colors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First thing first, I'm sorry how long it took me to get this chapter out! The last two weeks of school completely kicked my ass, but I'll be back on schedule soon enough now that summer's here. In return, here's a longer chapter for you! Also, thank you so much for all the comments and kudos, they make my day :3 Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Peko Pekoyama was woken up four hours after she fell asleep. There was a soft knock on her door and she sat up, squinting at the crack to try and see who lay beyond it. She grabbed her glasses and got up from her bed, pushing her glasses onto her face with one fluid motion and opening the door with another. Even half-asleep, the years of training at the hands of her sensei made her movements elegant and cat-like.

Standing outside of her door was Mondo Oowada. She remembered him from before he got arrested and she got fired. He had been tougher looking, his hair had been more ridiculous, there had been an angrier look in his eyes. Now he seemed a bit more tame. Peko wondered how she looked different, what he saw when he looked at her now.

“Huh, guess Leon wasn’t kidding when he said you were here. God, Pekoyama, what happened to you?” He ran his fingers through the part of his hair that wasn't corncob-esque, frowning at her.

“I was discarded.” Peko answered simply, rubbing her eyes. “I failed to properly do my job.”

“So they just kicked you out? Shit, that's rough. Sorry. I always knew that the Kuzuryuu clan was full of dicks, but that’s worse than I expected from them. Anyways, dinner’s being put out right now, do you wanna grab some food?” Peko glared fiercely at him when he insulted the Kuzuryuu clan and Mondo put his hands in his pockets and looked around, looking entirely unsure what to do with this situation now that he had upset her.

“They gave me a life, Oowada. It was theirs to give and it was theirs to take away.” She told him harshly, straightening out her pajamas to try and look more professional than she was. 

Mondo shook his head, hating how serious she was about that. He always hated that she saw herself as a tool and it drove him crazy when she reminded him of it. “That’s bullshit, Pekoyama, and you know it. Now come on, let’s eat.” 

She was tempted to resist, but then he'd leave without her and the conversation would die, which she couldn’t allow. Talking about the Kuzuryuu family made her feel an emotion other than the empty confusion of a drunk in the middle of a nightclub when everyone they came with left them at a table to never return and the whole world was unfamiliar and bright and irredeemably hideous, so even if the emotion she felt was anger, she would cling to it. Peko then realized that this might be one of the last times she'd ever feel anger, which caused everything to fade into that same dull, confused state where nothing made sense and nothing was worth caring about. But by the time that happened, the two of them were walking down the hallway. 

“I went to the apartment a few days ago.” Peko said suddenly. “Everything was the same except for the fact that the air conditioning was working properly.”

“Good.” Mondo said, sighing in relief. Even if he wasn’t part of the gang any longer, he wanted things to go well for the group that was once his whole life. “You know, I’m out of that fuckin’ mess now. I’m just not cut out for crime, you feel? I was never cold enough for that shit. You should quit it, too. You’re a good kid at heart, Pekoyama.”

“I don’t have one.” Peko lied easily as they walked down the stairs, both silently agreeing to avoid the crowded elevator. “A heart, that is.”

“Also bullshit. There are some real heartless gals here. I know what they look like, and it isn’t you.” Mondo thought about Hiyoko Saionji as he said that, the little blonde demon that tried to stab him with safety scissors a few weeks ago. There was nothing in her heart but a clear emptiness where a heart should be.

“Hm.” Peko didn't say anything to that. There was nothing that she could say, really. The odd duo arrived at the dining hall, which was just beginning to fill up with people. They both got into the buffet line and grabbed a plate. All of the food options seemed overwhelming, and she had no clue what to get. Breakfast for dinner or normal dinner food? Chicken or beef or vegetarian? Corn or beans? Rice? Bread? What about sauces, all of them lined up neatly like little ducklings at the end of the buffet? Should she even begin to contemplate the desserts in all of their complicated sugary sweetness? There was no training regiment that told her what to choose, and even if there was, a majority of the food required wasn’t even here. 

She tried to stick to it as closely as possible and filled in the gaps with what food item was the closest. As she wrestled with the seemingly simple decision, Peko remembered sitting in a classroom a few months ago and listening to the girls in front of her talk about the time one of them had to let a rabbit they adopted into the wild. The girl lamented about how it refused to leave its cage and venture out into the world. It was scared, she said, scared of the large world filled with predators and prey. It didn’t know where it fit in that wild world and wanted to go back to the place it came from, even if they all hated the rabbit back at her home. The girl was certain she saw it dead a few weeks later, being eaten by the flies at the side of some country road. _It was better off dead, honestly_ , she had said, wiping off her lipstick with a napkin before the nun teaching Woman in the Bible (a mandatory class for all freshman girls back at St. Mark’s) saw her and lectured them all about the sinfulness of makeup. _No matter what we did with it, it was miserable and I doubt it was any different out in the wild._

Mondo noticed her hesitation and occasionally glanced at her, watching as the once so confident bodyguard dissolved into a confused teenage girl who didn’t know something as simple as what she wanted to eat. “Not findin’ anything you like?” He noted, looking at her somewhat empty plate.

“Just deciding. There are many things to choose from. I’m...I’m not used to such a variety.” Peko admitted as she added a scoop of mashed potatoes to her plate just to add something. 

“There are worse problems than too much food.” Mondo reminded, filling a glass nearly to the brim with soda. 

“I’m aware.” She said, watching as the glass tipped over and drenched his food in cola. “For example, too much soda is certainly a pressing issue.”

He chuckled at that as they both grabbed napkins, trying to clean up the mess. “You’re a snarky little shit under all of that duty and responsibility, aren’t you?”

Peko thought about that comment, glad to have someone give her a solid personality trait. “I suppose so.”

Before Mondo could comment on that, Monomi arrived with a ton of napkins, a mop, her purse, and what looked like an eyelash curler. “Oh deaw! Mondo, did you spill soda again?” 

“I don't know, do you still have that pink stick up your ass?” He replied, swiping the napkins from her hand. Peko wasn't sure what to do with this clear tension between the two of them, so she did nothing and focused on the soda that was dripping from the glass to the plate to the counter to her feet. It was shockingly cold for soda and Peko took an uncanny interest in it as she cleaned.

“Mr. Oowada! You cannot use such language here! It’s inappwopwiate!” She scolded as they mopped up the soda.

“Learn how to say the letter r and I'll consider it.” He muttered, going back to the beginning of the line to get food that was not drenched in soda. 

Peko started to head towards an empty table, but Monomi stopped her with a loud exclamation of “Peko, wait!” 

With an almost unnoticeable sigh, she turned around and faced the overly-energetic woman. She was holding a clipboard filled to the brim with papers, a glittery pen, and a credit card, standing away from the line so as not to hold it up. “Now, dear, I just need you to fill these out. They’re for the doctor. And I was able to get in contact with your pawents! They both are willing to meet at court and help awange something with you. So tomorrow, you’ll see the doctor and then we’ll go to court! Do you have something to wear? If you don’t and you want to go shopping tonight, the curfew is 10 pm! If you decide to stay and you get a lot of Hope Fragments, you can eventually move your curfew up to 11! Do you need money to buy something?”

Peko knew it would be smarter to avoid spending her own money, but she didn’t want to owe this woman anything more than she didn't want to spend her own cash. “No, I have plenty of money. Thank you for your offer.” With that said, she took the clipboard and then pen, placed it under her plate, and continued walking towards the nearest empty table. 

She set the papers aside next to her and started filling them out as she picked at her food. The first ones were about her medical history, asking for doctor’s names (Peko wasn’t dumb enough to put that down; It would be too easy to track down the doctor and get him to admit who she lived with for her whole life) and medical conditions and allergies. There really weren’t any of note, just that she got headaches when the pollen count was high. The family history section she skipped since she had no idea if her family had a medical history of anything. She wondered if her mother or her father was going to have to help her fill that out. Thinking about them oddly did not make her emotional. They were just strangers she shared genes with. They obviously didn't want her, so there was no need to worry about them. She considered them in the same way she considered people she saw on the subway. 

After those forms, the questions started getting personal. They asked how she had felt in the past two weeks, the past month, the past six months, the past year, her whole life. There were bubbles to be filled asking her how often she felt depressed or if she had frequent nightmares or if she ever went through a trauma. Peko had never really analyzed her emotions outside of the ones related to the Kuzuryuu family until she was disposed of a few days ago, so thinking back to that time and trying to remember what and how she felt was difficult. It would be much easier to just lie. 

At some point, Mondo rejoined her. “She gave you the papers, too?”

“She did. How many of these are there?” Peko asked, flipping through the papers absentmindedly.

“Too damn many, if you want my opinion. You have to put down the truth, though. I swear that fucking doctor can smell lies.” He complained, wrinkling his nose as he thought of the doctor.

“That’s a very odd skill.” She commented, pausing her bubble-filling to take another bite of her food. “You were right, everything here tastes good. At least, everything I've eaten so far.”

“A useful one, though. Back in my gang days, it would've been a helluva thing to have. And see, I told ya! This place has the best food I've ever eaten.” There were a few minutes where Mondo just ate and Peko filled out her papers in between small bites. Occasionally he insisted she try some food or the other, and no matter what food it was, she agreed that it was good. It was a pleasant scene, one she was entirely unused to but liked none the less. Staying here certainly wouldn't be too bad. Peko came to the conclusion that she’d miss Mondo when she died, which was an inevitability she now embraced. That knowledge inspired her to be honest on the papers, since there wouldn't be much time for her to feel the repercussions of her honesty. 

Once all of the papers were filled out and both of their plates were empty, Peko finally said something that wasn’t about dinner. “I have to go shopping soon. I have a court date with my parents tomorrow and I don’t have an outfit suited for the event. It was Monomi’s suggestion.”

Mondo tried to imagine Peko looking through endless aisles of clothes and shoes and makeup which was both amusing and concerning. By the end of it, he was certain she'd make at least one sales associate cry. “Have fun with that. I’d offer to help, but I don’t know jack shit about how shopping works. Unless it's motorcycle shopping. Hell, maybe you should get one of those, piss off your parents and look cool in one move. Get a leather jacket, too.”

Peko snickered at the thought of her learning to ride a motorcycle just to possibly disappoint two strangers. It seemed so ridiculous to her, even bothering to go shopping in the first place to try and make a good or bad impression on people who gave even less of a shit about her than she did about them. “I don’t think it’s possible to learn how to ride a motorcycle in one night, and I can't say that I care enough about my parents to go out of my way to upset them.”

“That's some cold shit.” Mondo commented, the smile hinting that he was (for some reason unfathomable to Peko) pleased by her apathy. “You’ll probably make them cry at least once. Twice if you make that face while you say it.”

“I’ll be certain to remember that.” Peko got up and smoothed out her pajamas, knowing that she had to get out of them to shop but not particularly wanting to. With that said, she left the table and head up to her room to grab her money and change into something suitable for going out into the world.

The city had never scared Peko and it didn't scare her now, but walking around by herself with only a vague purpose was so uncomfortable that it felt almost like fear. Every shop seemed too bright, too foreign, too much like something from a strange dream. She half expected the last few hours of her life to be some strange experience that straddled the line between dream and nightmare. 

Eventually she found an innocent department store relatively close to Hope’s Peak and entered, trying to look as inconspicuous as humanly possible. She found her way to the section of the store that contained clothes for teenage girls and stared at the endless displays and dressing rooms and racks of clothes. There were a seemingly infinite amount of colors and clothes and it seemed impossible to distinguish one from the other as she looked at the area. Peko had no clue where to even begin. There seemed to be no order to the place and she decided to just plunge right into the middle and look until she found something suitable.

It took Peko an hour to find an outfit she could bear being seen in. That hour was absolutely agonizing. There were customers to avoid and sizes to find and clothes to try on and stare at under the neon lights. Finding a color that didn’t clash with her skin tone was damn near impossible (the pitfalls of albinism), so she just settled with black and white. Peko ended up with a skirt that reminded her strongly of the ones she wore when working for the Kuzuryuus, a white blouse that wasn’t too revealing or too hot, and remembering Mondo’s joking advice, she got a leather jacket. Making her way to shoes was easier. It was quieter there, and shoe sizes were easier to understand than clothing sizes. Still, it was confusing and she was once again overwhelmed with the sheer force of how many options there were. As if somehow able to sense her confusion under her stoic mask, a sales associate approached Peko. 

“Hello, my name is NEKOMARU NIDAI! Can I help you?” The associate, maybe a few years older than Peko introduced himself loudly. Before she could answer, he looked at her selection of shoes and the clothes she already had purchased. “I simply cannot allow you to purchase those shoes if you plan to wear them with that skirt! It would be criminal!”

The cheerfulness of Nekomaru caused Peko nothing but confusion--just like everything else--but in the hopes that he would help her make sense of it, she let him take away the shoes and return with a pile of boxes and a strange instrument that she recognized as the thing used to measure foot size. 

Soon enough, she was asked her opinion on a countless amount of shoes. Once he got a sense of what she liked, it took him less than three minutes to find a pair good for the event of a court date and a few other types of shoes that he promised would make her look fantastic. Peko took all she was given and started calculating the prices. The store was practically empty, so Nekomaru spent a good amount of time with her. Peko decided that he was nice, even if he was a little overbearing. 

Nekomaru examined the loot and seemed satisfied with it for a moment. “So, you have shoes, the outfit, and yourself. PERFECT! Do you have makeup?”

Peko shook her head, and soon enough she was dragged to a makeup counter. To her immense surprise, Nekomaru navigated the makeup counter and not only found makeup that actually looked alright on her, but he taught her how to apply it without making Peko feel awkward and strange and uncomfortable for being almost sixteen and not knowing exactly how to apply eyeliner. The explanation that she went to a Catholic school where makeup was against dress code was enough that Nekomaru didn’t think it strange. 

All in all, she blew over $500 on the clothes and shoes and makeup. That was a major blow to her savings, but Peko figured it was best to spend all of the money soon. There would be no one she cared to leave the money to once she fulfilled her duty of dying to protect the Kuzuryuus, which would probably happen within the month. 

Peko watched Nekomaru bag everything up and hand it to her. “Remember, eat well, sleep well, and most importantly, SHIT WELL!” With that charming farewell, Peko left the store and head back to Hope’s Peak. 

Peko made it back just before curfew. The only other person in the lobby was Junko, who was splayed out on a couch and blowing smoke rings at the ceiling. She hoped that she would be able to make it passed the blonde demon without being seen. There were years of training on being stealthy and quiet ingrained in her bones, but she also had a feeling that Junko was the sort to notice everything. Still, she was able to make it to the stairs without being noticed and she breathed a sigh of relief once she made it to the third floor. She placed the shopping bags on the floor, tossed off her shoes, and fell asleep before she was able to get under the covers. The whole experience had been exhausting and her whole day had been so impossibly long and strange that Peko would’ve been perfectly content with sleeping through the next few centuries.

Instead of getting to sleeping through the next few centuries, she only got to sleep through the next few hours. Peko was woken up by a knock on the door and she was up like a shot, holding her glasses as if they were a knife. Once she recognized the pink blur at her door as Monomi (she could see her through the crack), she relaxed slightly and put on her glasses.

“Good mowning! Did you sleep well?” Monomi asked as she entered, smiling at her newest charge. 

“Well enough.” Peko answered shortly, stretching out her legs.

“Fantastic! Your appointment with Dr. Baines--soon to be Dr. Kirigiri, she’s engaged to the father of one of our residents--is in an hour and a half. From there, we go straight to court! Okay?” She rattled off her plans cheerfully, practically bouncing up and down.

“...Okay.” With that comment, Monomi was out the door and Peko head to the bathroom to take a shower.

About halfway through washing her hair, she heard the sound of someone entering her room. She quickly got out and wrapped a towel around herself. Sitting on her bed was the girl from yesterday who had promised to paint her nails and looking through her shopping bags was Junko. 

“Hey, Lu-Lu! No need to look so angry, we came here to help you get ready! Once you finish with your shower, Kotoko and I will make sure you look presentable. You should be grateful.” Halfway through her speech, Junko’s personality seemed to switch from overly-cutesy and sweet enough to induce diabetes to regal and condescending. 

Kotoko seemed to notice her confusion and chimed in to explain. “What’s with the face? You can’t expect Junko to keep the same personality all the time. That would be tooooooooooooooootally boring, and Junko is too cool for that!”

Peko offered no response to that and retreated back into the shower. Tragically, the bathroom door didn’t lock so she spent the rest of the time wondering if one of them was going to barge into the bathroom as well. Apparently boundaries were a dead concept at Hope’s Peak. 

As soon as she shut off the water, the two descended on her like hawks. Peko didn’t even have time to wrap a towel around herself and was quite flustered when Junko insisted on doing it for her. She whispered something in her ear about dancer's bodies and showers, laughing when color rose to her face and she looked at the floor. By then, she had already checked out and let herself be dragged around by the two pigtailed enigmas. At some point, the girl in the wheelchair showed up as well. 

Junko dried her hair and braided it into some fancy updo while Kotoko painted her nails and put on her makeup. They debated about how far unbuttoned the shirt should be and which shoes she should wear and if the tights were necessary and if the jacket was too much. Peko didn’t listen to the actual words, but instead observed the way they treated her like some plastic doll and counted the amount of times Junko changed personalities. By the time they left her alone to go get breakfast, Junko had switched personas 20 times, Kotoko had said the word “adorbs” at least 40, and Monaca (which she deduced to be the name of the other girl) had never stopped giving her that disturbingly empty smile. Peko debated going to breakfast, but decided against it. She wasn’t very hungry anymore. Before she knew it, Monomi was at her door and they were heading off to the office of some doctor and then going to court to meet people she was supposed to care about but just couldn’t muster the energy to. 

Peko remembered an incident from a few years ago as they walked to the office. She must’ve twelve or thirteen, cooking omelets for breakfast so that she and her young master could have a proper breakfast before going to school. Fuyuhiko was in the years where he never wanted to be seen with her in public but was more than happy to have her around once they were at home. He stared at the space between her shoulder blades and without any warning, said “I think your parents are garage.”

She had turned around and frowned at him in confusion. “Why do you say so?”

“They left you for dead. Don’t you see how shitty that is? You’re so cool and they decided to throw you away. Not only are they fuckin’ trash, but they’re dipshits, too.”

Although Peko had issues believing the part of his statement where he said she was cool, she was inclined to believe that they were more like trash then she was, and she had been thrown away from two families like last week’s moldy pizza.


	5. A So-Called Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update's a bit on the short side, but a lot happens, so hopefully that makes up for it. Tell me what you think of this chapter, thanks for the support, and see you next Thursday!

The office of Dr. Angela Baines was, as always, filled to the brim. There were young children and mothers who looked agitated to the point of tears and teens like her who seemed to be contemplating something that ended in the suffix -icide, but Peko couldn’t figure out which prefix each teen would add onto it. 

“Dr. Baines is one of the best psychologists in the country. First a member of her medical staff will see you and then she’ll check you out and give us a quick report to give to the judge! It’ll be easy-peasy!” Monomi promised enthusiastically, and Peko only nodded absently. She had no clue what any of that would involve, so she tried to focus on counting the gray ceiling tiles instead. Once they were counted, she moved onto the floor and cursed herself for not bringing a book. But she had never had to deal with layers of bureaucracy except for when she went to get her driver’s permit. That had been an exhausting day. This one would be doubly so.

Peko got to over 300 tiles total before a nurse called her in and lead her to a yellow room with little ducklings on the wall. It was so childish and silly that she felt awkward entering the room with her black skirt and dark lipstick and high heeled shoes that clicked every time she took a step. She didn’t need to the extra height, but Nekomaru insisted that they were the perfect shoes for her and she had to admit, there was something nice about towering over these people who would judge her, more so than she would normally. As she got measured and weighed and examined and questioned about her eating habits, Peko imagined that she was some Amazon warrior woman who was being examined so that they could note what made a good sword and shield and make an even better one for her master. She pretended that they would use her as the mold for her replacement, but she knew exactly what sort of person they would hire with her gone, and it wasn’t a better version of herself. It would be an incompetent monkey with a machine gun and a superiority complex. They'd be better off hiring a gorilla.

That was what she was thinking of when Dr. Baines came in. She greeted Monomi as if they were long lost family members and then sent her from the room before turning on Peko. As she looked at this doctor, with her curious eyes and bright smile, she felt more like prey than predator. She seemed too happy to dig into her psyche and make judgements.

The questions came one after another. How did she feel about her parents? (She didn’t). How did she interact with other children? (She tried not to). Why? (They were like aliens to her. They lived completely different lives from her own and they had no interest in her. The feeling was mutual). What was her life like? (Odd, she supposed.) Who did she love? (Fuyuhiko). Who is that? (Her young master). What sort of work did he make her do? (Whatever was needed, although it was his father giving the orders more often than not). Could she be more specific about what sort of work was needed? (She would rather not). How did he treat her? (Better than anyone; he often told her she was a real girl, which was a very kind sentiment, even if it was false). If she wasn’t a real girl, what was she? (She was a human sword and shield, raised to protect and serve the family who took them in. Now that they abandoned her, she felt like a porcelain doll that everyone dressed up and moved around that seemed not to fit anywhere). That answer seemed to be enough for the doctor, who started typing away and asking her silly things, like what she would do on a perfect weekend and how she felt about animals. These silly questions took her a long time to answer, as she was told not to think of things like that. But she answered them anyhow.

There was a silence after that, and Peko watched the doctor type. She couldn’t see the screen, but by looking at her hands and the keyboard, she was able to make out a few key phrases. Clearly underweight, odd injuries, lack of clear identity without guidance from others, major depression, possibly suffering from post-traumatic stress, clear refusal to give details on former life, difficulty socializing, most likely abused by former family, does not think of herself as a proper human, shows many symptoms of schizoid and paranoid personality disorders, and would suggest living at Hope’s Peak with regular therapy sessions and visits with parents were the phrases that stood out to Peko and she disagreed with almost all of them. Sure, she was very thin, but a lot of it was muscle. Her injuries weren’t _that_ weird and she had an identity (the sword and shield of Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu) but that was former and thus didn’t count. She certainly wasn’t depressed or suffering from PTSD, the Kuzuryuus weren’t _abusive_ (it took all of Peko’s self-restraint not to say something when she saw that being typed), and she didn’t have a personality disorder. She couldn't deny the difficult socializing or the bit about her self-perception, but the rest of it was horse shit. Peko left the office in an irritated huff, giving Dr. Baines a glare that she didn’t respond to.

Monomi made some attempts to talk to Peko as they rode down to the courthouse, but she didn’t respond to anything. She just looked at the paper in Monomi's hands that was full of lies and shook her head. It was all so stupid. Why were they even wasting this much energy on her? Peko wished that everyone would just leave her alone and let her finish her job and die honorably as she was raised to. 

The courthouse was a mammoth building and she would've admired its structure and the clear work that went into it, but she didn’t know much about architecture and she didn't have time to think about that. Now, as she approached the courthouse, she had to deal with the problem of her parents. Those strange creatures who had some say over the last days of her life even though they were the first ones to dispose of her. What authority did they have over her? Peko hadn't seen them since she was a newborn. They named her and then left her in an ally to die because they didn't want to deal with the thing they created. She figured that their lives would've been better if they just aborted her, but for some reason, her dipshit parents didn’t even do that.

Monomi lead her to a bench to sit and wait to talk to the mediator. She gave the albino a pat on the shoulder before going in to talk to the mediator. Peko had no idea how to respond to this, so she just frowned and moved further away from the woman. Once Monomi was gone, she released a breath she didn't know she was holding in. Peko was able to relax for a moment until she saw her out of the corner of her eye. Pale skin, light blonde hair, tall and thin as if made out of white bamboo. Nice suit and kitten heels and soft pink lip gloss. An open face with wide eyes and fashionable glasses. This woman must be her mother, Nadine Pekoyama. When the woman spotted Peko, she let out a strangled sob and ran over to her, shoes clicking on the marble floor. Nadine immediately gave Peko a hug, either not noticing or not caring about the fact that she stiffened up like a corpse and was barely breathing at all. She could count on one hand the amount of times anyone had ever hugged her, and now this strange woman thought she had authority to do so?

“Lucy, honey! Oh god, all I’ve done is think of you! Not a day goes by where I don’t regret my decision, believe me sweetheart. Not a single day. I went back to go get you, but you were--” Here the speech of her mother was cut off by her sobbing. “You were already gone!”

Peko tried to pry this woman off of her and finally she let go, kneeling in front of her daughter as if begging for forgiveness at the altar of some ancient god. It was then that Peko realized that leaving a baby in an alleyway was most likely illegal, and she couldn’t let her mother go to jail if only because she wouldn't last a day in prison and would probably write to her child and tell her all about the horrors of jail and Peko honestly didn’t care to hear about that.

“Give me your phone. I need to look something up.” She requested, not finding it in herself to look Nadine in the face.

“I...Alright.” She said, rummaging through her purse and then handing Peko a phone. “What do you need to know?”

“Safe-haven laws. You could get arrested for leaving a baby in an alley, you know, and I’m not going to send you to jail.” She kept her tone cold and casual, as if she was talking about the weather with an acquaintance she didn’t particularly like.

This statement caused her mother to start crying again, stuttering out a thanks and talking about how wonderful of a girl she had grown in to. Peko was almost overwhelmed by the urge to kick her in the face. Once she found what she was looking for, Peko gave her the phone back and handed her a box of tissues from a table.

“You left me at the door of a police station in Indiana. You don't remember which one. You went back for me after an hour, but by then, I was gone and nobody at the police station had seen me. You then stayed with your grandmother for a few days. She’s dead now. Understand?” Peko gave her the false story as naturally as if it was a fact and her mother nodded. “Good. You don’t have to kneel there if you don’t want to.”

Nadine got up and dabbed at her eyes with the tissues. She sat down next to her daughter and tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but Peko moved away and she put the hand down. “So...Where have you been living?”

She decided it would be best to answer her mother’s questions so that she could hopefully pass the answers on to her father. “Here. Chicago. A family took me in to work for them.”

“Work…? What sort of work?” Nadine’s face became clouded with a motherly concern that she had no right to have in regards to this girl she had abandoned.

Peko was tempted to tell her all the details of her job as a bodyguard. She wanted to tell her that she had been put through awful training and didn’t get meals when she made mistakes and that she had killed her first man at the age of eight and his blood had gotten all over her cute little Easter dress. Peko wanted to make her mother understand the life she had given her when she left her in the alley, the life of killing and fighting and dehumanization and being used as a sword and shield and something to play with and use for a punching bag or pay off debts with or get off with, but she kept her mouth shut because she knew that she couldn’t protect Fuyuhiko from a prison cell. “It doesn’t matter.” 

“I would say that it does.” Nadine protested, frowning at her daughter. Peko raised her eyebrows at her and said nothing, letting the silence speak for her. _What right do you have?_ That silence inquired. _What makes you think that I owe you answers? That I owe you_ anything _?_

The silence went on for a while and it became increasingly uncomfortable for Nadine to sit there with her daughter who clearly disliked her. She tried to apologize a few more times, but Peko cut her off every time she attempted to, saying that it was unnecessary. Soon enough, two more people joined them in the hallway. The first was clearly her father. He had the same red eyes and glasses and was insanely tall. Following after him was a boy about her age who waved at her. She returned the way cautiously, her painted fingernails looking rather obnoxious and garish against the courthouse’s walls.

Her father (Takaaki Ishimaru--she remembered reading the name) had no interest in talking to her. He didn’t even look at her. That somehow irked Peko more than her mother’s melodrama. The mystery boy who she assumed was probably her brother in some degree seemed bursting with the desire to talk to her, but by the way their father looked at him, it was clear he was under a gag order. 

Peko stared at her father intently, trying to force him through sheer willpower to look at her. She knew that her candy-red eyes had a way of making people respond, but his eyes were the same and thus he was indifferent to her glaring. When she realized that was folly, she turned her eyes back to her supposed brother. He glanced at their father and once he saw that he was occupied with something on his phone, the boy moved his gaze to a chess board that was on a nearby table. Peko looked over at it and then looked over at him. She understood what he was asking and she figured that a game of chess was better than the silence that was only interrupted by her mother’s sniffling 

Peko got up and stretched out her legs before heading over to the chessboard. On her way over, she dug the heel part of her high heels into Takaaki’s foot. The pain startled him into looking up at the daughter that was half his. She looked back with her accusing eyes, the same color and shape as his, and his eyes once again fell to the floor. Peko let out a loud exhale through her nose and examined the chessboard for a while, making it seem as if the whole scheme was her idea.

As if spurred by a sudden idea (in reality, she was spurred by her brother’s excited demeanor, the way he looked at her as if she was the most wonderful thing ever), she grabbed the chessboard, put it on the floor, and began setting up a game. Once everything was set up, Peko looked at her brother and broke that heavy silence. “Do you play?”

“Chess? I do!” He informed her cheerfully, preparing to sit down on the floor.

“Black or white?” Peko asked, referring to the colors of the pieces.

“Kiyotaka.” Their father scolded, folding his arms across his chest. “Don’t.”

“Black or white?” She repeated, a bit more forcefully.

“Takaaki, what is your problem?!” Nadine interjected tearfully and she went off on a rant that distracted their father enough that Kiyotaka was able to sit down.

“White.” He whispered, not even containing his grin. Peko gave him a small smile back. She wasn’t used to smiling so it felt a bit awkward, but he scarcely seemed to notice.

As Peko’s parents fought and they moved the pieces around the board, the two quietly began to spoke. “You’re my half-brother, yes?”

He nodded as he moved one of his pawns forward. “Yes! My name is Kiyotaka Ishimaru, but you can call me Taka! And your name is Lucy?” 

“Mhmmm.” She confirmed, frowning at the board as she tried to think of the best move for her to make. “He banned you from talking to me?”

“He did.” Kiyotaka admitted sheepishly, watching her move one of her knights and also frowning at the board. “But...Well, you did nothing wrong, and I’ve...I’ve never had a sister. I normally don’t break his rules, but…”

“But it’s a stupid rule and the court is going to mandate that we talk anyways, so you might as well get a head start on it?” She assumed the end of his thought that he was too shy to say near the man in question. 

“Something like that, yeah.” He admitted. “Although our father is a good man at heart!”

Peko looked up at him as he moved another piece and she shook her head. “In my limited experience, I’m inclined to disagree.”

“But just that, your experience is limited! Your situation has turned you against him, and thus you can’t be a fair judge of his character!” He defended Takaaki fiercely, trying to make his sister understand his point.

“Maybe time will prove that you’re correct.” Peko began, going out of her way to keep her voice calm and level. “But you can’t be a perfectly objective judge in this either, can you? You’re his son, one he openly acknowledges. Of course you want to believe he's good.”

He frowned and seemed to practically deflate. “I hadn’t considered that angle.”

Something about seeing Kiyotaka sad bothered her. “It’s alright.” Peko told him, giving her another awkward-but-well-intentioned smile.

Soon enough, Monomi exited the mediation room and gestured for Takaaki to enter. Monomi saw Peko, waved at her, gestured to her phone as if to say “I have to take a call,” and walked away.

As they played, Peko learned more about her half-brother. He was desperate to have someone to talk to, and so once he found someone willing to listen, he went off. Kiyotaka was a hall monitor, a basketball player, student council president, and the top of his year at St. Bernadette's. He had political ambitions, wanting to start off as a public defender, then the mayor of Chicago, then a Senator for the state of Illinois, and then the President. He described the whole process and exactly what issues he wanted to work on and where he stood on them. Peko never cared much for politics, but it was interesting for her to listen to Kiyotaka discuss it because he was both passionate and seemed to understand what he was talking about. He then went into the story of their family; apparently his grandfather had been the first Supreme Court Justice to be removed from the bench for taking bribes and now they were trying to redeem themselves. Peko understood how her existence could ruin this, but Kiyotaka disagreed, figuring that announcing her to the world and bringing her into the family would improve things by showing their newfound honesty. 

The thing she found the strangest about her brother was his interest in her. Kiyotaka wanted to know all about her and bombarded her with questions and listened to her answers as if they were the answers to a calculus final he didn’t study for. Peko admitted that she didn’t really know what she wanted to do with her life now, but that she was a good ballerina and a good swordswoman and got respectable grades in all of her classes. He all but turned into a career counselor as they played chess and determined that with her skill set, she could do anything she wanted and just needed to try a bit of everything until she figured out what she liked best. Kiyotaka tried to ask about her past, but Peko shut him down almost instantly. 

By the time the mediator called all of them into the room, Peko and Kiyotaka had made their way through six games of chess and all of his political beliefs. The mediator was a short man with salt-and-pepper hair hair who reminded her of the devil.

“Up-pu-pu! I've got your sentence right here, Miss Pekoyama! You are to live at Hope’s Peak Halfway House until you get better! You have to visit your parents at least once a week and attend _aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall_ of your therapy sessions. Once Monomi decides your better, primary custody of you will go to your mother, but you’ll have to stay at your father’s twice a week! Aaaaaaany questions?” 

There was a pause after this freak’s dramatic speech and Peko shook her head.

“Greeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaat!” He exclaimed in a perfect imitation of Tony the Tiger. “Welcome to your new life!”

Peko looked around the table, thought about Junko and her sobbing mother and her distant father, and sighed. As she and Monomi exited the courthouse, she looked at the redhead and said “Do you think I can get a refund?”

The long and short of the half hour lecture Monomi gave her was no, this “present” did not come with a gift receipt. Peko sincerely hoped that death came soon because everything in her new life seemed to be awful, with only two exceptions, and two exceptions just wasn’t enough to make life worth it for her anymore. It wasn't their fault, it was just a simple fact. Peko’s only hope was that the few people she cared about wouldn't blame themselves when she fulfilled her role as a tool.


	6. Living Dead Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I literally cannot apologize enough for how long it took for me to get this chapter out. What it boils down to is that depression came around to kick my ass and I could barely get out of bed, let alone actually create something. But the amount of comments and kudos I received during that time really inspired me and that combined with some stubbornness and the hell known as marching band (which forced me to get up and out into the world) made it possible to continue. To make it up for you, here's a long chapter with new characters and lots of plot stuff and more character development and my most sincere apologies!

Peko returned to Hope’s Peak and made her way to her room, not bothering to stop when Junko called after her or when Celestia waved or when Komaeda all but chased her into the elevator in an attempt to ask what had her looking so hopeless. She was sick of people asking her what was happening and how she was feeling and why she was feeling that way. All she wanted to do was sleep.

The next few days were spent almost entirely in her room and almost entirely unconscious. Every action seemed exhausting to Peko, exhausting and useless and generally irritating. There was gossip about one girl's return from France, something about Komaeda being caught making out with Junko Enoshima in one of the therapy rooms, and the fact that scheduling sheets from St. Bernadette's (which was apparently the school that the kids at Hope’s Peak attended) would be arriving soon. Peko honestly couldn't find it in herself to care. She needed to rest up and then plan. Without her watch, she knew her young master was probably being hunted down. It was the perfect time to pounce considering his new guard would still be in training and Fuyuhiko probably didn’t have much concern for listening to the newbie. When she wasn't unconscious, she made a list of people and organizations that disliked the Kuzuryuu family that she had to watch before. Peko made a plan for exactly when she would check up on them, and from there it was a waiting game to see which one would go for an assassination. Once that was determined, she could fulfil her duty and die having saved him just as she was meant to do.

Her planning wasn’t done entirely in isolation, however. Monomi visited and gave her the laydown of exactly which family she was to visit on what days starting next week. Taka had visited her twice, armed with a chessboard and long-winded speeches about duty and responsibility and family politics. At first Peko found it charming, but it started to bore and irritate her by halfway through the first visit. If he noticed, Kiyotaka didn’t seem to care. Mondo ended up at her door every day to convince her to come out and eat and scold her for not getting out into the world. At first this too was endearing, but then it became burdensome and dull. Everything that wasn’t her inevitable death seemed to fade into some distant gray fog that was trying to approach her but was blocked by some invisible, untouchable something. 

Four days after her court date, Peko was all but dragged to Hope Peak’s resident therapist, who determined that she was incredibly depressed. She scoffed at that analysis, but swallowed the pills she gave her anyways. They gave her a bit more energy, so she wasn’t going to complain. Two days after that, she showered and got dressed and left her room of her own accord for the first time in nearly a week.

“Pekoyama, perfect timing! Here’s your scheduling sheet.” A boy she never bothered to learn the name of (Niall? Naege? Neggie?) handed her a piece of paper and a pen. “The credits you need are on there, and if you need any help, I’ll be here! Although I might not know either, it’ll be my first year at St. Bernadette's too…” 

She nodded and sat down on a couch in the lobby, reading over the paper and pretending like this could possibly matter to her. She twirled the pencil around her fingers as she tried to think of what classes to mark down. It wasn't like she was going to end up going, anyways.

Peko marked down all of her required classes and just as she was debating electives, Junko climbed onto the couch.

“Hey, Lu-Lu, you remember the promise you made to me, don’t you? About being choreographer?” She asked, giving her a smile so white and blinding that it made Peko want to wear sunglasses.

“I recall.” She answered dryly.

“Great! That means choir should be one of your electives because like, everyone in the play is in choir so we can plan stuff during class.” Junko circled it on the paper, looked at the rest of her classes, and scoffed. “Good God, this is awful! Your schedule is all sorts of terrible. I can’t allow you to take earth science! The teacher is sooooooooo boring, take bio instead! Mr. MacMillian is dreamy. And regular English 10? Do you know the sort of kids in regular English 10? I don't know what it was like in your old school, but all of the burnouts were in regular English 10. I’m getting you another paper and we’re fixing this.”

Peko shrugged and let her circle and chatter on about which teachers were annoying and what kids to avoid and the drama she should be aware about. Every time Peko tried to tune her out, Junko did something to forcefully grab her attention, whether it was digging her nails into Peko’s skin or suddenly saying something far too loudly or pretending to take a picture of her companion. Time lost any meaning as she sat on that couch and watched Junko switch things around to suit her needs. Her schedule was flipped upside down, her hair left down Junko liked her, her shirt adjusted and glasses cleaned all because this enigma of a girl said so. She felt no need to resist her power. It was too much effort, and Peko needed to have her energy to hunt down those who would hurt the Kuzuryuu clan and protect them.

It took nearly three hours for Junko to grow bored of her new plaything and let her go back to her room to lay down. That was when Mondo showed up, took one look at Peko, and shook his head.

“Pekoyama, what in the entire fuck happened to you? Last time I saw that much glitter was...Well, never.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, eyeing her curiously.

“Junko Enoishma.” She answered simply, hiding her face in a pillow.

Mondo sighed when her name was brought up and cracked his knuckles. “God, I hate that bitch. If I wasn't on probation and she was about my size, I’d beat the shit out of her.”

“I wouldn't complain if you did.” She said, removing the pillow from her face. “I need to remove this and then go.”

“Where to?” Mondo asked as she got up and grabbed a towel.

Peko sighed, watching the makeup come off in blobs as she washed her face. “I have to finish my job.”

He looked at the albino in confusion as she wiped her face, a frown settling on his features. “But didn't ya get fired?”

“I did.” She confirmed.

“...So why the hell are you still trying to do your job?” Mondo didn't quite understand what she was trying to do, but grasped that she ought to not be doing it. 

Peko stood in front of the mirror in her room and began to part her hair, ensuring that it was neat and perfect. “Because it’s my duty.”

“You don't have any duty to them anymore.” Mondo reminded her, running his hand through his pompadour. With that statement, it all seemed to make sense to him. She was still trying to protect them, even after anything. “The Kuzuryuus literally kicked you to the curb, but not before treating you like shit for years beforehand. They’re pieces of shit, Pekoyama. They're pieces of shit and you creepily stalking them to protect them or whatever isn’t going to do anything. I mean, they fed you all of that 'You’re a tool' crap and treated you like garbage and you're trying to go back to them. What the fuck for? Your job is over. You don't have to deal with those fuckers anymore.”

Peko listened to him carefully as she braided her hair, although as soon as he called the Kuzuryuu clan pieces of shit, she stopped and just listened. Her face didn't move an inch as Mondo gave his spiel and once she was finished, she stayed faced away from him and silent for an uncomfortably long amount of time. How dare he say such things? How dare he insult the family that took her in? Yes, maybe they made an assassin out of a girl and wore her down until she wasn't even a person and treated her like a servant, but all of that didn't matter because they saved her. They gave her a home and food and clothes something resembling a family and she would defend them to the death. Instead of telling him all of this, she turned around sharply, her features contorted into a rare and frightening expression of barely controlled rage. “Get out of my room.”

Mondo didn't move, too shocked to actually follow her orders. He had seen many things in his life, had watched many people be murdered, and had even seen Peko kill someone herself, but he had never seen a look of rage as pure and terrifying as the one on her face. 

“I said, get the _fuck_ out of my room!” She repeated, raising her voice for the first time in years. It was then that Mondo realized that something was really wrong with Peko, that she was in desperate need of help that she wasn't currently getting, that he needed to get through to her as soon as possible.

“Peko, listen to me, what happened to you was--” 

“GET OUT.” Her voice sounded unfamiliar and alien, more beast than human. There were tears in her eyes and her hands were curled into fists and Mondo decided it might be best to leave her be for a few minutes. He left the room, shaking his head and swiftly ducking when Peko chucked a comb at the back of his head.

Peko couldn't think of the last time she had expressed such an emotion and as soon as he was gone, she sunk back down onto her bed and wiped the tears away. It was exhausting to feel so strongly, exhausting and embarrassing and it bothered her to know that was how Mondo would remember her (she certainly wasn't going to face him again), but it didn't bother her enough to take back what she said. 

After staring into space and calming herself down, comforting herself with the knowledge that Mondo had no idea what he was talking about, she got back up and finished with her hair. Peko grabbed her backpack and head out, ignoring the few odd glances from those who heard her go off on Mondo. Chiaki waved at her absentmindedly as she played a videogame, her head resting on Hajime's shoulder. Hajime nodded at her, giving her a small smile and then tilting his head, indicating that he wanted her to sit on the couch across from them and talk. Peko was almost tempted to sit and was even more tempted to when Chiaki put down her game and stared right at her, but she knew that these two would talk her out of it. She shook her head, gave the pair a half-hearted wave, and continued on her way out the door.

It took less than three hours for Peko to find out everything she needed to know. She figured that if she was going to live, she'd tell Taka that she could add detective to her list of prospective careers. She knew that the new bodyguard was a fellow named Juzo Sakakura, that he was a boxer by training and worked in mafia interrogation before getting work with the Kuzuryuus. She knew that he and Fuyuhiko didn't get along and that Fuyuhiko was physically okay but drastically unhappy for some reason that she couldn't figure out. She knew that the Togami clan already tried to hurt Natsumi, Fuyuhiko’s younger sister and Peko’s young mistress, but that she escaped just fine. She got further information that three of Togami’s goons would be trying to attack tomorrow, that they’d strike in a nearby ally after Fuyuhiko’s (and sometimes Natsumi's) almost daily trip to Ando’s Cakes and Confections. 

Peko remembered the shop fondly, how Fuyuhiko insisted on making sure that no one but her saw him enter and how Ruruka Ando, the future owner and creator of the best sweets in the Ando shop, always made the two of them try whatever new thing she was making. She took Peko’s general dislike of candy as a challenge to try and make a sweet so good that even she couldn't resist it, usually saying something along the lines of “If I could get Yoi, I can get you too,” before making her try some new sweet. Peko humored her and ate them all, but mostly stuck to the little cakes when Fuyuhiko and Ruruka both insisted she get something and swore not to tell her sensei that she was breaking his dietary rules. It was as good a place as any to die.

She didn't want to return to Hope’s Peak at the moment, but she also didn't want to be near strangers as she puzzled her way through the best way to prepare for what was to come. Peko somehow found herself at her mother’s house, a cute little two-story with a pretty patch of garden in the front. She quickly deduced that her mother wasn't home, but she figured that she wouldn't mind if she sat on the front porch and read for a few hours. Peko had always liked to read whenever she had time to, and now was no exception. She dug a book from her bag, a beaten-up copy of _The Count of Monte Cristo_ , and began to read. It used to belong to her master, but when he threw it at her with the intent of hurt her, it became hers. Peko sat there and read until the streetlights turned on and she figured it would be best to return to Hope’s Peak to avoid people going out to look for her. She folded down the page she was at and head back to the looming downtown structure, not stopping to eat anything or talk to anyone.

As Peko slipped into her pajamas and laid down, she suddenly became scared. Yes, it was her destiny and her duty, but it was going to hurt and it was going to be lonely (because she knew that the new bodyguard would insist Fuyuhiko run away and get out, and that’s what Peko would've wanted anyhow). She was going to die young, alone, and in pain, and even though she accepted it, she was terrified. Despite all of her years of training, the Kuzuryuus and her sensei couldn't breed all of the humanity out of her. Despite it all, she was still a girl who was very much afraid to die.

******

The morning of July 12th began rather normally in the Kuzuryuu house; or at least, what was considered normal since Peko’s unexpected fall from grace.

Normally, a summer day would start with a nice breakfast which Peko would prepare, with help from Fuyuhiko, Natsumi, or the missus depending on who was awake and in the mood for it. Since Peko’s departure, Fuyuhiko was on a strike from cooking (or really helping with anything) and Natsumi had always been more hindrance than help in the kitchen, so it was either Mrs. Kuzuryuu’s burnt omelets or nothing. Natsumi and Fuyuhiko took to sleeping through breakfast and Mr. Kuzuryuu started grabbing breakfast at a cafe on his way to work. So breakfast was a bust.

Fuyuhiko was woken up not by the soft sounds of Peko trying to silently get ready in the room next door as he once was, but by the sound of Natsumi blaring some god-awful K-POP song in the kitchen. He buried his head in his pillow, trying to drown out the generic bubblegum pop that she loved. As if sensing this, Natsumi turned the volume up even higher until Fuyuhiko was forced to do something.

“Nat, oh my god, can you _stop_?” He all but begged as he buried his head further into the pillows and threw a blanket over his head. 

“Not until you come out here!” She yelled over the music, turning the volume up even higher. 

“Fucking hell.” He muttered before rolling out of bed, squinting in the sunlight. He drew the curtains shut, but a ray of light still was able to shine through, no matter which way he moved them. Fuyuhiko gave up on the endeavor and exited his room, heading to the kitchen.

Natsumi was dancing around the kitchen, using a whisk as a microphone. “Hey, nerd!” She greeted before shutting off the music and sitting on the edge of the counter, swinging her legs back and forth. “I want French toast.”

Sakakura was also in the kitchen, cracking his knuckles and leaning against the wall like an angsty edgelord. Just looking at him pissed Fuyuhiko off. He overheard the newbie refer to Natsumi as a dimwitted schoolgirl, him as a lovestruck brat, and Peko as little more than a corpse while on the phone with some friends of his and after that, he refused to like him. Fuyuhiko refused to do anything since Peko got kicked out, hoping his stubbornness would convince his parents to let her come back. But this was for Nat, his beloved sister, who had nothing to do with what happened, so if she wanted French toast, he’d make French toast. “Then let’s make some fucking French toast. Pull up some sort of recipe, won't ya? I don't know how to make that shit off the top of my head.” Fuyuhiko admitted, opening the fridge and going out of his way to ignore Sakakura, who seemed in no way bothered by this.

“Fineeeeeeeee. Sakakura, hand me my phone.” Natsumi requested. The bodyguard rolled his eyes, but he handed her the glittering pink smartphone anyhow. She immediately began Googling a recipe, pulling one up and calling out instructions to Fuyuhiko. As she watched, her suspicions were confirmed. He was somewhat back to normal, but he hadn't yet recovered from Peko’s forced departure and was in desperate need of cheering up. 

In between reading the recipe and taking selfies, Natsumi had a great idea. “Hey Sakakura, go get some of those fancy art pencils that Fuyu has somewhere. Some paper, too.” He went off to get what he was told, still obviously disgruntled that he was taking orders from a teenage girl who had far too much money and time to spare. 

“What are you doing?” Fuyuhiko asked, looking at her suspiciously.

“Cheering you up! Duh. Seriously, you're moping and moping and moping and it’s totally annoying. So I'm cheering you up!” Natsumi gave him a dazzling smile before glancing at her phone. “Oh, and Ruruka texted me. She says that she has sent new candy she wants you to try so you should go down there today. She was all worried about you because you just randomly stopped showing up and was actually going to have Yoi break into our _house_ to see if we were still _alive._ ”

Fuyuhiko rubbed the back of his neck and looked at his shoes, feeling guilty for making her so worried. “Well shit. Alright, I'll text Ando and let her know I'm stopping by later. I didn't mean to make her worry like that. Jesus. Hey, I think the French toast’s done.”

Sakakura returned with enough paper and pencils to supply an army of artists and dropped it on the kitchen table. Natsumi hopped down from the counter and grabbed some of the toast before sitting down and starting to happily stuff her face. Fuyuhiko followed in suit, but as soon as Sakakura went to get some of the food, they both turned to glare at him. He wasn't deterred by their glares and grabbed the last of the French toast and leaving, muttering something about annoying teenagers.

“Say that to my face, bitchbaby!” Fuyuhiko taunted, causing Natsumi to giggle and for Sakakura to roll his eyes, but not to pause. He looked like he wanted to throw a chair at Fuyuhiko, but that would be a fast way to get fired.

The next few hours were spent drawing (mostly mocking pictures of Sakakura, although sometimes they’d make insulting doodled of their parents or a teacher they both disliked or any given Togami). Natsumi’s style was sloppy and scribble-y and made everything 10 times funnier. Fuyuhiko’s style changed in accordance to each picture, sometimes cartoonish and something realistic and in one case, downright life-like. To be fair, it made the image of Sakakura in a magical girl uniform much funnier.

Natsumi’s phone went off and soon she was gone, saying something about important drama to deal with. Fuyuhiko finished up the last little picture (a caricature of his father with bows in his hair) and then decided it might be best to go to Ando’s. He debated telling Sakakura, but then decided against it. He’d end up following anyhow, and Fuyuhiko not telling him would give off the fairly clear message that he didn't want Sakakura around.

It felt wrong to walk to the streets without Peko nearby, sometimes next to him or sometimes further behind but almost always there. Sometimes she was borderline suffocating, but mostly he had been happy with having her around. Fuyuhiko found himself looking to the right every few minutes, as if he was expecting to see Peko there. He silently berated himself for doing this, shaking his head and focusing on just getting to Ando’s Cakes and Confections.

The shop was busy as always, filled with people and employees and delicious, delicious sweets. Fuyuhiko made a point of seeming like he wasn't looking for Ruruka, who had become something of a friend and advisor over years and years of visiting her family's shop. It took less than two minutes for the girl in question to spot him, get someone else to cover her spot at the counter, and make her way over to him.

“Fuyuhiko!” She greeted, looking both immensely happy and somewhat pissed to see him. “Where on earth have you been? This is the longest you've ever gone without a sweet, you must be dying! And you look like hell, when was the last time you slept?”

“Thanks for the self-esteem boost, Ando.” He said sarcastically, examining a piece of taffy. “I guess Natsumi filled you in?”

“Partially. You’ll be filling in the blanks. Now come on back, I still haven't decided which flavor to use for Yoi’s birthday cake and I need someone to try the new buttercream candy flavor I've been trying to make.” Ruruka all but dragged him back into the kitchen, gesturing to a spot on the counter where he could sit. Fuyuhiko hopped up and watched her move around the kitchen, kicking out a cousin that also worked there. “Now, tell me everything. Also, eat this. Raspberry and chocolate chip. Flavor one for Yoi’s cake.” 

“Well, what do you already know? I don't just want to repeat shit that Nat’s already told you.” He tried to think of the best way to explain the situation as he took a bite of cake. The taste briefly lifted his spirits and he kept eating the small piece he had been given.

Ruruka grabbed the other three pieces and set them on one side of Fuyuhiko and she sat on the other. “Well, she told me that Peko is gone for forever and that you’ve barely left your room in a week. She had convinced me not to call the police and report her missing until you explained, but I'm gonna call in about five minutes and send Yoi on it if you don't have a reasonable explanation for this. Her parents must be worried sick! Oh, and on a scale of 1 to 10, how good is that cake?”

“9.7.” He answered simply. “And that’s basically the gist of it. So, I take it you don't know about Peko’s parents? They ditched her practically the moment she was born. She was a literal dumpster baby and we picked her up. There's no one else to report her missing to. If the police do find her, she has nowhere to go but with her parents, and I can guarantee that those assholes aren't worried about her at all.” Thinking about her parents got him pissed, no matter what the situation was. Sometimes he’d look at Peko and wonder how the hell the people who gave her life could ditch her when they had decided to go through with everything and it was so obvious how good she was at heart. He considered them to be among his worst enemies even though he had never met them.

“But you two...I thought you were a couple!” Ruruka looked incredibly confused as she handed him the next piece. “Chocolate cherry marble.”

“No! No, oh my god, no!” Fuyuhiko’s face turned bright red and he stared down at the cake. “She...I could never...Well no, we weren't a couple, but... Anyways! We weren't raised as siblings or anything. She was raised to work for my family--They’re rich assholes but I've mentioned that--and she ended up becoming my best friend along the way. And then something ended up happening and she messed up. One mistake. Just one mistake, and she was fired and kicked to the curb and nobody cares. I’d try to contact her, but my father said that if I even tried that it would backfire on her. He said the same thing to her about Nat and I.” He pouted as he ate the second small piece of cake, which kept his mood relatively stable. 

Ruruka listened sympathetically, nodding every few minutes to indicate that she was listening. “Well, that's certainly a predicament. There has to be something you can do, though! We can at least find out if she’s safe. When there's a will, there’s a way. You two will be together again, I'm certain of it. We just have to figure out the mechanics. Oh, how’s the cake?”

“9.2. And how are we going to do that? She’s off the grid. I know she has a birth certificate, but I know that Peko isn't the name that’s on it. And how are we going to do this without breaking any laws? And without my parents finding out.” Fuyuhiko frowned, not able to clearly think of a way. Normally he was good with plans, but the emotions attached to the situation made it impossible for him to step back and think clearly.

“Hm…” Ruruka pouted as she thought, staring at the ovens. “Well, you have people who are willing to help. Me, Yoi, every Ando, and maybe some of your house staff. We just have to find where she went. When did she get kicked out?”

“The third, but pretty late at night. She would've had to find a place to stay.” Thinking about Peko wandering the streets, scared and alone and discarded without a place to sleep made him want to cry, but he didn't. Instead he finished the second bit of cake and grabbed the third.

“Fudge cheesecake.” Ruruka told him before moving on. “So she probably couldn't have left the city in a night. We’ll start checking hotels and asking if a Pekoyama was there a few days ago. We’ll divide up the city, starting with places she would probably stay. She’d probably go cheap, eh? Peko probably didn't have much money on her.”

Fuyuhiko nodded, both in approval for the cake and her plan. “That would be time-consuming, but we’d have a good shot. After that, we’ll talk to anyone who might've seen her, ask if she mentioned where she was going and hope somebody knows. If we hit a dead end there…”

“Then we keep asking!” She encouraged. “Somebody will know something, I'm sure of it. Peko’s a memorable girl. I mean, you don't meet sword-wielding albinos every day. Also, how do you like the cake?”

“It's a solid 8.7. So, let’s assume we find where she went. What if she left Chicago? How will we get to wherever she went? What am I going to say to her if we do find her? What if something’s happened to her and she’s some dead Jane Doe somewhere that nobody can identify? What if she’s dead, Ruruka? What then?” Fuyuhiko put down the cake and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes as he thought of all the possible situations. Peko could be homeless in Chicago or a hitwoman in Latvia or a starving ballerina in Paris or an aimless wanderer in India. Wherever she was, he was certain she was probably hungry and cold and alone and that made him miserable. The concept that she wasn't anywhere anymore, just dead, made him even more so. 

Ruruka wrapped her arms around him, pulling the blond close. “Fuyuhiko, it's going to be alright. You know Peko! That girl can survive anything. She literally has a giant sword. You can't beat people who have giant swords! I bet she’s perfectly fine. And if she isn't, she will be soon. She's not dead. You’d feel it if she was.”

Fuyuhiko was entirely unused to hugs (his family was criminals with a few legitimate side businesses, they weren't huggers), but it was comforting to him anyhow and he attempted to hug her back, even if he wasn't sure exactly how to do it. “I guess I would, but I just want to _know_. I want to know that she's safe and happy and I want to know if she’s doing alright and god, I just want her _back._ ” He squeezed his eyes shut and tried as hard as he could not to cry and failed rather miserably. Strangled sobs escaped his throat and Ruruka hugged him tighter, as if she could hug away all of his problems and worries.

Neither one of them could say how long they sat there, but at some point they separated, Fuyuhiko stopped crying, the previous train of conversation was abandoned and soon they were back to debating cake flavors and being ridiculous.

By the time Fuyuhiko left the shop with a pocket full of buttercream icing flavored candies, he already felt better. There was a distant plan in place and a nice distraction within arm's reach and a little bit of pep back into his step. The world seemed to be turning around until he felt the unmistakable feeling of a gun pressed to his head.

Before he could register it, she arrived. Perfect braided pigtails, sailor suit uniform, steel blade slicing through flesh to free him, and bright red eyes hidden beneath plain glasses. She was like some descending archangel sent directly from heaven, all white light and holy determination. Peko had arrived just in time, almost as if she knew it would happen. She was stoic and perfect and Fuyuhiko both loved and hated her in that moment. She was here to save the day but was also pitching herself head on into danger. It was reckless and stupid and so perfectly Peko.

Fuyuhiko was too shocked that she appeared to fully grasp the knife that slashed his face, going from his nose, across his eye, and stopping at his temple. He fell to the ground, clutching his eye and scrambling towards the wall of the ally. It took a second for Fuyuhiko to figure out that the screaming he heard was his own, and soon after that, he was unconscious.

He came to less than a minute later when he heard a gunshot. Two of the attackers were gone and one was on the ground, holding the gun. The bullet lodged itself in Peko's thigh and through the one eye that worked, he could see at least three stab wounds. She fell to the ground when the lethal piece of lead hit her and her head hit the ground with a thud. Fuyuhiko tried to get up, to make his legs work, but they just wouldn't. So he crawled over to her, desperately trying to find a pulse.

“Peko, Peko, wake up!” He begged of her, going to shake her before realizing that doing that was a horrible idea. “Peko, what the fuck, wake up!”

The screaming took it out of him and soon Fuyuhiko was unconscious once again. The next time he came to, he was being carried off on a stretcher towards an ambulance. Ruruka was following Peko and her squad of paramedics before she turned to Fuyuhiko, who was attempting to sit up.

“Alive!” She shouted across to him. “She’s alive!” 

And after that, he felt safe closing his eyes once more.


	7. Legends Can't Die

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Thursday, another chapter! I'm on a semi-normal update schedule again, so yay!

The first hospital that the pair is driven to took in Fuyuhiko, with his slashed eye and simple scratches, but they couldn't and wouldn't accept Peko. No way they can save her, not this small, homely little hospital on the south side of the city. They couldn't fix that many stab wound and a bullet in an artery, especially when those injuries are on a girl who was already underweight and has already lost so much blood. So Fuyuhiko was wheeled off to the OR of the first hospital and Peko was airlifted away, alone except for paramedics whose names she'd never know and who she’d never see again. 

The hospital she was lifted to from there was rather different. The building was a mammoth structure and the interior was bright and white and everything there was freezing cold and top of the line. This place, without a doubt, could save her body. There wasn't very much they could do for the rest of her, though.

Peko never woke up during the process. Not on the ambulance, not on the helicopter, and certainly not during the surgery. She never expected to make it to a hospital when she planned out the mission in her head. She expected to die in the alleyway when her head hit the concrete. She didn't expect to live after that and she didn't really want to. The whole ordeal had been terrifying at first, but once she saw Fuyuhiko hit the ground and assumed he was dead, it stopped being terrifying and became oddly calming. She had transcended fear and confusion and all humanity at that point and had turned into a bloodthirsty monster whose only purpose was to mill. If he was dead, her purpose was gone and so she would have to be gone, too. It was simple. It was easy. That was the rule, and the rules had to be followed. When the bullet hit her leg and she fell, Peko had felt happy because she assumed it was finally over. She assumed that she fulfilled her duty just as she ought to because if she couldn't save him, she ought to at least die with him. 

But Peko wasn't dead. Not yet.

The surgery took a total of eight hours. It was eight agonizing hours of trying to patch up a girl who’d rather have them throw her to the wolves. Peko’s heart stopped two times, but never for more than three seconds. The hospital personnel looked through her bag and tried to find a number for someone to contact or at least something with her name on it. All they found was a sword, money, and a list of names that were all crossed out except for one. Mikan Tsumiki was written on the very bottom and soon enough, the waiting room of Towa Hospital was filled to the brim with at least 20 teens. Unlike normal, the waiting room was hectic and loud and filled partially with despair and partially with average teenage bullshit. In the same breath, they talked about high school drama and the possibly dying girl with no noticeable change in tone.

The waiting room practically emptied when a doctor announced that she made it out of surgery and was expected to survive. The only people who stayed were Peko’s mother (who needed to), Mondo (who wanted to), and Nagito (who was morbidly curious about the whole affair). When Nadine insisted on only allowing family for the first few days and called Peko’s father, Mondo took that as his cue to leave for the night and come back later in the morning. Nagito didn't move an inch until Mondo came back, called him an insensitive douchebag, and all but dragged him back to Hope’s Peak. 

Hours later, Peko woke up. It was the beeps that woke her, the odd noises that were supposed to signal something, but she wasn't sure exactly what that something was. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see the afterlife that she obviously landed in. After all, she must be dead. There’s no way she could’ve lived. Absolutely not.

She heard her mother’s sobs between the beeps and came to the conclusion that she must be in hell. What would be more hellish than having to deal with her weeping for eternity? Still, Peko didn't want to open her eyes. She didn't want to see hell, but she couldn't avoid it forever.

She opened her eyes as quickly as possible and instead of seeing fire and brimstone, she saw a hospital room. Peko tried to sit up, but the pain in her stomach forced her right back down. She was connected to a maze of IVs and wires that she couldn't escape from and judging by the fact that she could see strangers in the halls, doctors and nurses and visitors, she came to the conclusion that she wasn't in hell. She was in a hospital. Which must mean…

“I’m alive.” Peko noted incredulously, eyes fixed on the ceiling. She pressed two of her fingers to the vein in her neck and felt her pulse, weak and faint, but steady.

“You're alive.” Her mother confirmed, smiling through her tears. She grabbed Peko’s hand and held it for a second until the girl in question jerked it away and turned so that she was facing the window. Peko didn't want anyone to see her how she was right now. She never wanted to be seen again. 

“I should've died.” Peko said softly, glancing out the window. The sun was garishly bright and she wanted to turn away from it, but it was the sun or her mother, (who was _still_ crying). She'd take the partial blindness.

Nadine shook her head and reached out to fuss with her daughter's hair (she could see a knot in the back of it and her stylish and motherly instincts were screeching for her to fix it), but she stopped herself. “But you didn't. By the grace of God and Towa Hospital, you didn't. You've been saved, sweetheart.”

Peko turned back towards her mother and sat up, stab wounds be damned. She winced in pain and shook her head when her mother gestured for her to lay back down. “You’re not understanding me.” She said irritability, and then repeated herself more slowly and slightly louder. “I should have died.”

Nadine didn't quite understand what she meant and stared at her in confusion. “Honey…” She began, trying to think of what she ought to say, but it was impossible because she had no clue what Peko was trying to say.

Luckily, she didn't have to sit there in silence for long. Soon, the room was flooded with nurses and doctors explaining and examining and running around. They shone lights in her eyes and asked her what her name was and changed her bandages. Peko looked down at the mess of new scars in silent awe. She counted five major ones, one right next to the only other stab wound on her body (she had been ten years old and jumped in front of a blade for Natsumi and Fuyuhiko; it missed her heart by mere centimeters) and the others scattered down near her stomach. And then there was the bullet in her thigh that left an uneven hole in her leg, which was a whole other bag of worms. 

Next was the instructions. Peko wasn't supposed to be on her feet at all for the next week, and would crutches for at least two weeks after that. They explained how and when she was to change her bandages and what to do if any of her stitches popped (there must’ve been a hundred total) and exactly when she should take the painkillers she was on. She was certain that she would be the most popular girl at Hope’s Peak when she returned; she was on some heavy painkillers and there had to be at least a few addicts who would want some. Peko wouldn't give them away, but she wasn't sure if she should take them either. But hell, there was nothing she needed to have her mind clear for. Not anymore. So it was alright for her to dull the pain, unless Fuyuhiko was alive. Then she needed everything to be clear, even the painful parts. 

After the lengthy list of instructions, the doctors and nurses left her to sleep. Peko saw nothing to be conscious for, so she slept for a few more hours. When she woke up, her room was covered in flowers and there was a neat pile of cards right by her bed. She decided it was best to read through them, just to see if there was something interesting in there.

_Feel better!_

_Get well soon!_

_Stay safe!_

_Keep hope and crush despair!_

_You’re in our thoughts and prayers!_

A million generic phrases like that showed up in each identical card and she was about to throw all of them away (the sentiments were empty, anyhow) when one caught her eye. It wasn't a normal card, but a note written on Kuzuryuu letterhead. Peko sat straight up as she examined it, her heart filling with hope. Maybe there was still a chance that they’d take her back, they they saw her dedication and Fuyuhiko was somehow alive and decided that bygones could be bygones and that they would take her back home and things could go back to normal.

The note was written in code that Peko could easily decipher after years of knowing the Kuzuryuu’s patterns. _Fuyuhiko and Natsumi are alive. Come near them again and they won’t be, wether you survive the incident or not._

She wanted to believe that maybe the letter was an empty threat, but she knew the handwriting. It was the handwriting of her old master, the handwriting that she could see with her eyes closed and imitate nearly perfectly. With that, her fate was sealed. Trying to fulfil her purpose would kill those who she was sworn to protect. Her old life was officially over. Now the world was new and strange and Peko was a useless and odd part of it that nobody seemed to know what to do with. She was purposeless and powerless and at the mercy of people who probably didn't care about her. Peko spent the next hour trying to force her heart to stop, but the damnable organ just kept beating. She was about to open her stitches, reach in, pull it out if her chest, and rip it to pieces when Kiyotaka arrived holding a chessboard, flowers, and a miniature mountain of books. 

There was a beat of silence as the two debated what to say and who should speak first. It was Taka who decided to say something as he sat down in a chair next to her bed.

“Hi.” He greeted cautiously, as if he was approaching a wounded and possibly dangerous animal. Peko didn't miss that tone, half pity and half discomfort. She was used to it.

“Hello.” She returned, moving the bed so that she was sitting up a little more. Apparently there was a button for that, only recently discovered by the girl inhabiting the bed. 

Kiyotaka put the books and flowers by the windowsill and tried to think of what else to say. What was there to say to someone who almost died? “...Do you think you're up for a game of chess? I don't want you to over-exert yourself, but you seem to be very bored! Boredom is the third worse thing, just behind laziness and corruption!” He regained some energy as he talked, beginning to fold out the board.

“I should at least be able to play chess.” Peko agreed, mostly because there was nothing else to do. As the two of them began to play, she noticed him looking around nervously every few seconds. She figured it might’ve been her, but Taka seemed comfortable enough to smile at her whenever she made a particularly good move, so it must've been something else. “You aren't supposed to be here, are you?”

Kiyotaka nearly dropped the knight he was moving when she said this and looked up in shock. “N-no! What makes you think that?! Where else would I have to be?!”

Peko almost laughed at how bad of a liar he was, but she suppressed that instinct out of habit. “Taka, I mean no offense, but I think you might be the worst liar I’ve ever met.”

“...Alright, maybe our father said that I wasn't to visit until he talked with our family's press manager about what to do with you. Maybe.” He admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck once he finished his move. “And even though disobeying your parents is wrong, leaving your sister to sit alone in a hospital is even worse!”

By some miracle, Peko was actually able to smile when he said that, feeling something other than casual despair for the first time in a week. She figured it was more duty than enjoyment of her company that brought him here, but the sentiment still warmed her heart a bit. She realized then that if her plan had succeeded that Taka would've been ruined if he already considered her important enough to break the rules for. Guilt briefly override her peaceful hope and she was about to confess all of it and possibly cry until she saw him still smiling at her like she was the best thing to ever happen to him and decided that she couldn't shatter that illusion yet. “Thank you for doing that. It was getting a bit...dull here.” 

“The pleasure is all mine!” He declared proudly, glad that he managed to get a smile out of his stoic sister who reminded him of an immovable marble statue. “I also got you some books to pass the time! I wasn't sure which type of books you preferred, so I grabbed a book from each genre.”

His visit passed quickly after that. Taka had to leave for a few hours in order to hide that he ever visited, so he spoke as quickly as possible about how what happened to Peko was a crime and gave her the exact details of what would happen to the criminals who hurt her. He left just as he was about to begin talking about the trial phase, promising to be back later and to return with the chessboard. Peko slept after that, exhausted by the whole ordeal but not displeased by it. Chess with her half-brother was a nice distraction from the fact that she wished she was dead. 

Peko was still asleep the next time Kiyotaka came back, so he just sat by her bedside and read for a few hours, occasionally wondering how he could work to reduce assaults that lead to this. He didn't know the details, just that she was found in an ally with multiple stab wounds, a bullet in her leg, and a sword in her hand. There had been no progress in finding the attackers and from what he figured, nobody from the police had interviewed Peko yet. The case was being put on the back burner, and Kiyotaka was determined to find out why and fix it so that he could aid in bringing those criminals to justice. 

He was in the middle of forming a lengthy speech in his head to the lead detective on the case when he saw a stranger stop right outside of Peko’s room. The stranger had the most ridiculous hair Kiyotaka had ever seen and was holding a cheap bouquet of flowers in one hand while the other was placed firmly in his pocket. This person looked like a criminal to Taka’s eyes, possibly the same one who attacked his sister, so he was quick to jump out of his chair, exit the room, and stand in the doorway.

“Hey, can you let me in?” The stranger asked, holding up the flowers with one hand as of to indicate his purpose. 

“As requested by her mother, Lucy is not to see anyone who isn't family at this time.” Kiyotaka responded stiffly, standing up as straight as humanly possible.

He sighed loudly and shook his head, not believing that practical strangers had so much power over his friend. “Look, I don't know who the fuck you are--I’m guessing you’re that half-brother she mentioned--but I don't really care. I’ve known Peko for a little over four years. You've known her for a little over four days. Just let me talk to her. Five minutes, man. Please.”

Kiyotaka shook his head, crossing his arms. “I understand that this is a very stressful time, Mr…”

“Oowada. Mondo Oowada. No need to add a mister in front of that.” 

“Mr. Oowada, but policy is policy, and the policy says that her mother is the one who decides who gets to visit Lucy, and she has decided that it’s only family for the time being.” Kiyotaka explained, not sure what to make of this character.

“I’d like to have a few words with her mother. You leave a kid in a dumpster, she turns out to be alive fifteen years later, and suddenly you think you have control over her?” Mondo cracked his knuckles, not liking the audacity of this stranger.

“I must ask you to refrain from such comments! This is not the time for discord!” He insisted. “And if I may ask, exactly what are your intentions with my sister? Because if they are romantic in nature--”

“No! Jesus, no. Peko’s a sweet girl, but she’s my friend. _Just_ my friend. That’s all. No offense to her, but she just...Isn’t my type.” Mondo insisted, earning himself a glare from a passing nurse for the way he raised his voice. 

“Hm.” Kiyotaka was rather relieved by that and uncrossed his arms. “I will ask her mother when she believes it will be suitable for her to receive friends. Until then, I am able and willing to pass on any messages, so long as they are not damaging to her recovery!” 

Mondo tried to think of the best way to say that he knew what she did, that he knew and that it was stupid and reckless and awful, but he came up blank for a long chunk of time. “Tell her I know. And that I want her to get better soon, and that I'll be by later.”

“That you know what?” Kiyotaka questioned, his curiosity piqued and yet he was somewhat nervous to hear the answer.

“Nothing you have to worry about.” Mondo shoved the flowers into his hands and turned away, not giving him an explanation beyond that. Kiyotaka tried to call after him, but he kept walking away. For now, he would protect Peko's secret. She never made him promise to do so, but she had a feeling that Peko would be upset if she told her half-brother all of the details (or even any of the details). 

Kiyotaka was still holding the flowers and staring at the distance in confusion when Takaaki arrived, glaring at Mondo and then coming up to greet his son, taking the flowers from him.

“Taka, why don't you go get something to eat? I need to have a few words with…” He paused, not wanting to say her name. He never wanted to say her name. He never wanted her to exist. Taka nodded and was off like a shot, practically sprinting away from the spot.

Peko was still sleeping when he entered, seemingly unmoved by his presence. In reality, she was awake and aware that it was her father in the room with her. She just wanted to see how he would react.

Takaaki sat stiffly in the chair and checked his phone, watching the clickbait articles about his family roll in “The Secret Ishimaru! What The Family Of Ex-Justice Toranusuke Ishimaru Doesn't Want You To Know!” was the most popular of them. The official press release was put out less than two hours ago and already there was criticism, and he traced it all back to this silver-haired child. He sighed loudly and tapped his fingers, intending to wake her up.

In an act of defiance, she stayed perfectly still and appeared to be in an angelic level of sleep for a solid half an hour until she yawned and slowly opened her eyes. This man was the source of Kiyotaka’s misery, and since he was the only person she had seen in the past two that had been nice to her, Peko felt obligated to irritate him. 

“Lucille.” He greeted awkwardly, unsure where to begin with this girl that was half his.

“Father.” She returned in the same stiff tone, running her hands through her hair and undoing the knots.

Takaaki crossed his legs and glanced down at his phone, which was ringing off the hook. The call was from no one important, an intern who could wait, but he didn't want to deal with this. “Excuse me a moment.” He then turned away and for five minutes, Peko sat there and watched her father say beaucratic phrases that really didn't mean anything to anyone.

He hung up the phone and turned his attention back to his daughter, who was giving him a glare that made his skin crawl. “I assume Kiyotaka has already filled you in about our family?” 

“He has.” Peko replied shortly, fussing with the edge of her bandages. 

“Don't do that.” Takaaki scolded her as a habit and obeyed as a habit, dropping her hand to her side. “Your existence has been officially acknowledged. You're an Ishimaru now, no matter what your last name happens to be, and thus you are expected to behave like an Ishimaru. No parties, no drugs, no drinking, keep your grades up, and go into a respectable profession and you’ll get the full support of our family. You have a responsibility to rebuild this family’s good reputation. Am I understood?”

Peko gave him a nod and a soft “I understand,” but a question was burning at the back of her throat. _Why? What do I owe you? What do I owe your family? Why do I have to do this?_

“Fantastic. Now, questions. It will be much easier to answer me now before the journalists hound you. What exactly were you doing before you arrived at Hope’s Peak?” He watched for a response, but got none. Peko had been trained not to answer in interrogations and had the scars to prove it. She could keep a silence going on and on for weeks before she would give a fragment of an answer. Even if her job as sword and shield was over, Peko still didn't want to give up information on them. It was an instinct ingrained into her that wasn't going to be undone by some schmuck in a suit. 

“Let me ask again.” Takaaki said after a solid 30 seconds. “What were you doing with your life before you arrived at Hope’s Peak? Either you tell me, or I'll find out on my own, but no matter which way it happens, I will know. This can be done the easy way or the hard way. What were you doing before you showed up at Hope’s Peak?”

Peko kept her mouth shut and fixed her gaze at a spot just above his head. Again and again he asked, getting more and more irritated, and she still stayed silent and didn't look at him. Takaaki huffed and sighed and threatened and cajoled until he was exhausted and yet he couldn't move her into a confession, which confirmed his suspicion that it was probably bad and would ruin them further if the press found out.

“You’re a stubborn thing, aren't you?” He noted, heading for the door. “Stubborn and immoveable and nothing but trouble.”

Peko nodded at that observation, adding those to her list of possible personality traits. “I suppose I am.” She confirmed. “They used to call me a stone fox.” 

“Who?” Takaaki turned back towards her, looking manic with the excitement of possibly getting information out of her.

Peko raised an eyebrow, making it seem like it was a clue when in reality it was a nickname given to her by a Kuzuryuu house maid who never outgrew 70’s lingo. “Wouldn't you like to know?”

Takaaki left in a huff after that comment, leaving Peko to read her books and try to figure out what (or who) she ought to become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pssst, make sure to leave some things you would like Peko to try and do in the next few chapters! I have a few solid ideas, but I would love to see your opinions on what hobbies she should try to pick up and what characters y'all want her to interact with!


	8. Something Akin To Happiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Thursday, so it's update time! This chapter is a bit on the short side, but it was the best place to stop because if not, this chapter would be an absolute monster.

Takaaki didn't come back to visit her after that, not even at the urging of Kiyotaka, but even he knew it was probably for the best that they not interact again for a while. Hours and days dragged on in a blur of the same faces in the same room at what seemed to be the same time. The only variation in those days was the book in Peko’s hand. Without much else to do, she read fervently, making her way through cheap YA romance novels and surreal science fiction and the entire Harry Potter series. Peko developed a taste for locked room murder mysteries as she sat in a locked room of a different sort, and she found herself oddly fond of historical fiction if only because there were so many little details to look into and thus give her something else to read about. The best thing about all of the books was that they gave her some insight to how people typically acted and what normal emotions were like. She wasn't naive enough to think it played out exactly like in stories, but it gave her a solid place to start.

A detective came in to see her after two days and Peko was shocked to look up and see a face that was familiar from Hope’s Peak. The lilac-haired girl sat down in the cheap plastic chair and extended a gloved hand, which Peko shook through the maze of IVs.

“Kyouko Kirigiri, pleased to meet you, although I dare say that I've seen you before.” She introduced once they ceased shaking hands.

“Hope's Peak?” Peko asked for confirmation, curious about how she could've become a detective at such a young age. Kyouko was her age at the absolute oldest, and yet she already had a career. Then again, Peko had one too, but that was all dead and gone. 

“Correct.” Kyouko nodded and continued on, not feeling the need to make another comment about their mutual residence at the halfway house. Peko was grateful for that bit of courtesy as she went on. “I work for the DSC. I typically don't involve myself in Chicago PD’s casework, but I received multiple requests from your half brother and Oowada to take on this case. I’m afraid that I was unable to get the transcripts from your previous interviews, so I’ll inevitably ask you something which you might have already answered. Apologies in advance.”

“I haven't been interviewed.” Peko informed her, waving away a nurse who was about to enter and ask if she needed anything.

Kyouko let out a small hum and muttered something in French (Peko didn't know the language, but she didn't need to in order to understand the sentiment) while she took a pencil and some paper from her bag. “Alright then. If you could please, start from the beginning.”

So Peko did. She tried to tell as much of the truth as possible, although she denied knowing the other victim and lied about what her original plans were for that day and lied about having a clue about who the attackers were. Kirigiri interrupted her a few times with polite questions, but mostly she let Peko talk and talk and talk. 

“You must have a remarkable memory, Peko--that is that what you prefer to be called, yes?” When Peko nodded to signify yes, she scribbled that down and continued talking. “Peko. Got it. Well, Peko, your account matches Fuyuhiko’s almost to the letter. The only disagreements are the number of stab wounds you received. Still, he admitted that he couldn't clearly see you so it was just an educated guess. Truly remarkable.”

Peko had a feeling that this detective was suspicious of her, but she didn't show her fear. “I’ve always been told that by my teachers.” She lied easily, pretending that she didn't notice that Kyouko was suspicious of her. “And he’s okay, isn’t he? Fuyuhiko, I mean. The boy that was in the alley.”

“Fuyuhiko's fine. His left eye couldn't be recovered, but other than that, he’s in perfect shape.” Kirigiri informed her, watching the subtle way Peko exhaled in relief. “Now, I’m going to be frank with you, because I think you genuinely mean well and wouldn't benefit from sugar-coating: I think you’re lying to me, and I don't like being lied to. However, I doubt you're doing it for a malicious reason. You're trying to protect something, aren't you? More specifically, someone.”

The fact that Kirigiri was able to see that she was lying and pinpoint the reason shocked Peko into silence and she racked her brain, trying to figure out what movement gave it away and where it was that she failed again. “I...I am.” She admitted sheepishly. “Pretending otherwise would just be an exercise in futility.” 

Kyouko put down the pencil and adjusted her gloves, trying to make a slightly more sympathetic face. She wasn't great at showing emotions, but she made an admirable attempt and Peko could respect that. “That’s very honorable and fine, but I need you to tell me the truth so we can bring the men who tried to kill you to justice. You don't have to tell me who you’re protecting or why you're doing it. None of it will be written down unless it directly relates to what happened in that alleyway, I promise. In exchange, you'll tell me what you know about who attacked you. If you won’t do it for me or for yourself, do it for Kiyotaka. Do it for Oowada. Do it for Fuyuhiko and his family. And believe me, I wouldn't dream of betraying that promise, if only for practical reasons. It'd cause an unnecessary rift in all of our future relations, and I don't want extra drama. And there is that sword you have…So trust me for this. For everyone's sake.”

In a display of absolute ridiculous teenage girl-ness, Kyouko extended her pinkie as if to pinkie promise. After a second of confusion, Peko wrapped her pinkie around the other’s for a split second, enough for her to understand that the promise was good. Under any other circumstance, she would've kept her mouth shut, but for the satisfaction of knowing that whoever had tried to hurt Fuyuhiko would be put away and never allowed near him again, she would tell. Besides, Peko could protect him like this, at least a little bit. The same people couldn't go after him if they were in jail. This would be the last time she could do something close to her ultimate purpose, so she might as well. 

“If you go to the corner of 32nd and Oleander Street, you'll find an apartment building. Go to apartment 568. The door will be answered by a man with rainbow hair and he’ll smell like Doritos and what is best described as regret. If you ask him who was sent for the hit by Ando’s on the 12th and offer him some whiskey for his answer, he'll tell you. I don't know their names, and I didn't tell you any of this.” Peko spoke quickly and softly and she looked at the door more than once, as if she expecting someone to walk in on them and kill her then and there for telling Kyouko anything. 

The lilac haired teen nodded, her face as serious as ever. Still, her eyes gave away a glimmer of joy and satisfaction for having got an answer. “Didn't tell me any of what?” She asked, getting up from her chair. “Also, don't worry about school, Naegi into threw away the schedule Junko drew up for you. You’ll get a new sheet in a week. Feel better soon, Peko, and thank you for your honesty.”

“It wasn't a problem.” Peko told Kirigiri as she walked away, leaving her back to her isolated kingdom of books and bandages. It was odd to see someone close to her age be as serious and stoic as Peko was, but it gave her some medium of comfort. There was at least one other stoic in the hectic mess of Hope’s Peak, someone dedicated to their job and who was mostly business. There was someone out in the world who understood a small part of her. Maybe she could find someone capable of understanding the parts of her that were causing issues.

It wasn't too long after Kyouko’s interview that another detective showed up, this one from Chicago PD. He asked the same questions that she did, and yet didn't catch her little omissions and lies, which lead Peko to believe that it wasn't that she was a bad liar but that Kyouko Kirigiri could smell lies (even lies of omission) from a mile away. Since both interviews were successful, Nadine finally decided that friends could visit.

Less than ten minutes after that was officially decided, Mondo was at the hospital with more flowers and more books from Toko’s practically infinite library. Peko was able to semi sit up on her own and was able to fake the rest of it due to the mountain of pillows and the fancy button on the bed. Mondo sank into the plastic chair and looked at her in silent horror. Everything was so white that it was hard to tell where the blankets and pillows ended and Peko began. She looked even thinner and her eyes even emptier and if it wasn't due to the tangle of machines she was connected to, Mondo thought she might disappear entirely.

He was shocked into silence when he compared this Peko to the Peko he knew right before he got arrested six months ago. That Peko was still slender, still a bit blank, but she was strong and certain and intense. This Peko looked starvation thin, almost entirely blank, at the mercy of bandages and monitors, and unquestionably prepared to embrace death. It was even different from when she was so royally pissed a few days before, when she had shrieked at him to leave and chucked a comb at his head. That Peko had been lost and confused and in need of help, but she had been _alive_. Now she looked like a ghost, and Mondo knew that if her plan had succeeded (that is, if he was right about her plan), she really would be.

“Peko.” He began, putting down the pile of books and the flowers and looking at her. “What the _fuck_ were you doing?”

“What the fuck was I doing when?” She returned, pretending to be clueless.

“Don't play dumb with me! What, it was just a happy fuckin’ accident that you were walkin’ by the exact alley at the exact time that your ~young master~ was being attacked and that you almost died?” Mondo crossed his arms and huffed, doing a spot on impersonation of Peko. He just raised his voice a bit and made it more deadpan and it was perfect.

“I was just trying to do my job.” She defended, rifling through the card pile and pulling out the one written in code and handing it Mondo. It was easier to let the letter do the talking.“Everything is written backwards and seven letters after its normal place in the alphabet.” 

It took him three minutes to decipher all of the note and when he did, Mondo put it down. “Well shit.” He said, putting the card back by the others. “So I guess you won't be pulling that again, huh?”

Peko shook her head and folded her hands, unsure where she should look. “Any attempt to fulfil my purpose would result in the ultimate failure of that purpose. I can't do what I'm made to do.” She was useless now, a tool with no way to fulfil its purpose. Logically, when a tool is broken, one has to throw it away, and yet no one seemed willing to do it. She was debating just doing it herself, but she wasn't sure how she ought to go about it and she knew that at least two people would be inconvenienced by her committing suicide. Somehow, there were people attached to her ugly, broken pieces and Peko didn't want to hurt them. The least she could do was do no harm. 

“Your purpose isn't just to spend your whole life around one person and completely give up being a human. You aren't done for yet, dipshit.” Mondo said, giving her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. It really wasn't, but Peko pretended to be comforted by this sentiment. 

“I suppose so.” She shrugged and then winced when she found out that the movement aggravated the stab wound that was right above her heart. “I’m just not quite sure what to do now.”

“Well, for now, just focus on getting healthy. Take everything a day at a time. Don't freak out about finding a new life purpose immediately. Just stay alive for now. That’ll be tough enough for you, you reckless little shit.” He half-teased her, unsure if any words could reach her right now. Peko was right there, and yet she felt so distant and far away that she might as well have been in Jerusalem. 

Peko thought about his words and nodded, deciding that it was better than any plan she had. “Just stay alive...I think I can do that.” 

Mondo got up from the plastic chair, stretching out his legs and walking over to the flowers. “Good. Oh, I got you some more books from Fukawa. She said that your taste in mysteries is bad and that you should feel bad, but she says that about everything. Plus most of 'em were on the shelf where she puts books that she likes.” 

“Good to know.” Peko began to examine some of the books, twisting them around in her hand and adding them to the pile of books she had yet to read.

“When you were planning your little rescue mission,” he began, not able to find it in himself to look at her. “Did you plan on making it out?”

She pulled up on the blankets a bit, almost as if she was trying to hide under them. “I didn't.” Peko admitted, figuring that there was no reason to lie to Mondo anymore. It was easier to tell him the truth.

To her shock, she heard a strangled sob coming from the ex-gangster. She couldn't help but stare and without a word of warning, he left the room.

The rest of the day was spent figuring out the crutches and trying not to wince every time she moved ever so slightly in the wrong direction. Peko was good enough on the crutches and good enough at hiding her pain that her main doctor decided that she could leave tomorrow.

The morning Peko was to enter to real word, she slept in until almost noon. The world inside the hospital was miserable, but everything made sense there and so she didn't really want to leave it. There was a rhythm of food and medicine and visitors and nurses, but there was no such pattern for her in the world outside. Sure, there might be some pattern, but within the patterns there were inconsistencies and there was no real use for her out there. 

A nurse handed her clothes that had been dropped off by her mother, along with a little note that said _I asked your friends and brother what sort of clothes you liked and made a good guess! We’ll go shopping later and you can pick out whatever you’d like._ The outfit looked a bit like her old sailor suit uniform, so it provided Peko some comfort. 

It was that nurse that explained to her that her father and half-brother were away and that her mother was busy, so someone from Hope’s Peak would be coming to get her. An hour after that announcement, a girl with multi-colored hair and a guitar strapped to her back ran into the hospital, practically jumping with excitement. On her heels was a kind-looking woman with long red hair.

“Hey-o! I’m Ib! U! Ki! Mi! O! Da!” The girl with multi-colored hair gave Peko a thumbs-up and a wink. “Put it all together, and you get Ibuki Mioda! That’s me, and this is Ms. Chisa Yukizome! She works at Hope’s Peak. What do they call you?” 

“...Hello. And Peko. They mostly call me Peko.” Peko greeted after a stunned silence, unsure what to make of someone who was so peppy. The woman introduced as Ms. Chisa Yukizome smiled softly and picked up the pile books.

“Hi! I’m so glad to meet you! Are you all ready to go?” Chisa asked her and Peko nodded as she got situated with her crutches. Ibuki grabbed all of the flowers and twirled them around. 

“Wowie, so many flowers! You must be super-duper popular!” Ibuki said as the trio made their way out of the hospital.

Peko wasn't sure why Ibuki would think she was popular, but she was somewhat flattered. “Not really. My half-brother just likes sending flowers.” 

“How sweet of him! Kiyotaka’s your brother, right?” Chisa questioned, smiling fondly as she remembered the black-haired boy who showed up every day to get books and report on her condition.

“Mhmmm.” Peko confirmed as they exited the hospital and entered the bright, hectic world of Chicago in July. She wanted to retreat back into the empty whiteness of the hospital, but the tide of people kept her moving forward. 

“Oh man, that guy was super strict! He said that I couldn't slide down the railings 'cause I'd get hurt, but little does he know that Ibuki is the Queen of Sliding Down Railings!” She switched into referring herself in the third person, which confused Peko but she didn't question it.

“That sounds like something Taka would do.” As she walked, Peko felt a hand in her hair and instinctively grasped for a sword that wasn't there, causing her to briefly stumble on her crutches. It turns out that it was just Ibuki, who was happily placing flowers in her hair.

Chisa giggled at the two of them, happy to see her newest student (she never liked calling the kids she worked with clients) interacting with fairly well with someone. “That flower looks really nice in your hair, Peko.”

She glanced over at the braid on the one side of her hair in an attempt to look at it, but she couldn't quite see it. “Thank you.” Peko said as Ibuki put in another flower and then another after that.

“Cute girls should have cute flowers! Plus, if I can get all of these in your hair, I can get out my guitar and write you a song. Is it true that you’re a ninja? Because like, I heard that you're a ninja and I could write a great song about that.” Ibuki rambled on, occasionally elbowing people out of their way.

“I’ve been trained to use a sword--bamboo and steel, although I prefer bamboo most of the time--but I don't think I qualify as a ninja.” Peko was even more confused by Ibuki and why she would write a song about her, but Chisa gave her a glance that said _That’s just how Ibuki is_ , so she didn't question it.

“No way, that totally makes you a ninja! You swooped in and totally saved that one dude and chopped off people's hands and stuff! I think I’ll call the song _The Legend of Peko, the Cutest Ninja Chick_.” Ibuki started humming in an attempt to come up with a tune she liked, and Peko was surprised by how pleasant her voice truly was. 

By the time that the trio got to the subway, Ibuki managed to fit every flower into Peko’s hair and had half of a chorus down for the prospective song. Peko frowned at the stairs and tried to figure out how she would get down them. 

“Hm, now how are we going to do this?” Chisa wondered out loud, resting a hand on her hips.

“Ibuki knows!” She declared, holding out her hands. “Ms. Chisa can take her crutches and Ibuki can carry Peko down the stairs! Ibuki is super strong and can do it.”

The concept of Ibuki carrying her was slightly terrifying, but there was no other clear option, so Chisa smiled and took the crutches and Ibuki scooped Peko up into her arms. 

“Heh, you really are light as a feather!” Ibuki said as the albino adjusted to being carried, putting her arms around Ibuki's neck. “Or maybe I'm just super strong!”

“It’s most likely a combination of both.” Peko said, trying not to show that she was afraid that she would get dropped but she didn't seem to be breaking a sweat.

“Yeah!” She agreed enthusiastically, laughing when they received a glare from a man walking next to them and Peko moved her foot to give him a swift “accidental” kick with her non-injured leg. “A true ninja!” 

Chisa laughed from behind them, shaking her head. “You two...Goodness gracious, Monomi’s going to have her hands full.”

Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, Ibuki set Peko down and Chisa returned her crutches. The subway ride back to Hope’s Peak was mostly uneventful, except for the fact that Ibuki gave the whole subway and peak of the soon-to-be-smash-hit, _The Legend of Peko, the Cutest Ninja Chick_. Peko’s face turned the same color as her eyes at this gesture, but she couldn't deny how sweet it was.

The three returned to Hope’s Peak without much fanfare, since most of the residents were in a group therapy session with Monomi. 

“Okay girls, I have to go finish up some paperwork. I’ll see you both in group session tomorrow at four!” Chisa waved and then made her way to get office, leaving Ibuki and Peko in the lobby.

Ibuki sat down on one of the couches and Peko sat next to her, watching as she sang different versions of her new song and asked Peko for her opinions on which ones she liked best. 

After one of the run-throughs, Peko found herself actually smiling, which shocked both of them into silence. “Thank you.” She said, looking away from Ibuki.

“The pleasure’s all mine! You're a cool chick, and I think we could be band mates.” She decided, strumming on the guitar.

“Band mates…?” She questioned, unsure what she could mean.

“Yup! Not like, in an actual band--Although we could be, I've been trying to get one together!--But in a friend way! Friendship is the band and we’ll be in it together!” Ibuki explained, poking her new friend. “Once you get your E-Handbook, I'll totally give you a Hope Fragment.”

“I’d like that.” Peko said, feeling something in her chest that was either happiness or a loose stitch. “The friendship thing, and the Hope thing too, I guess. I think I would like that a lot.” 

The concept of possibly making a new friend was exciting, even if she didn't know too much about Ibuki yet, but there was still plenty of time to learn. Peko had a whole lifetime ahead of her now, wether she liked it or not.


	9. What He Knew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meh, I'm two days late with this chapter, sorry! School kicked my ass the first week back, but here's an extra long chapter to make up for it! Tell me what you think of it and thanks for reading!

The rest of that particular day was spent with Ibuki teaching her how to use the e-Handbook. It was fairly easy to figure out, but Ibuki seemed hell-bent on staying there and befriending Peko, and she didn't not want to be friends with Ibuki, so it worked. She listened to some of Ibuki's other songs and stories about the other kids at Hope’s Peak and answered a thousand different questions about what swords she liked best and what things she had sliced. By the end of the day, Peko was content but very much exhausted.

To everyone's shock (Peko’s included), she actually got up and out of her room the next day. She didn't necessarily want to do so, but Peko felt obligated to at least look like she was trying to participate in life at Hope's Peak. Plus, she knew that she'd have to leave at some point to go to group therapy. Just thinking about that part of her day gave her a headache, so she tried not to contemplate it. She supposed that it was possible to skip it, but Peko felt that it would only be to her own disadvantage if she did. It was odd to think of herself and her needs instead of exclusively the needs of others, but apparently that was what people did and Peko was supposed to be a person now because there wasn't anything else left for her to be.

She was one of the first people up and she walked into the room where they had breakfast, trying to remember the names and faces of everyone in the room. There was Kirigiri, gnawing on an apple and looking through papers that presumably had something to do with detective work. Sitting across from her was Naegi, who was also looking at the papers and taking notes but seemed significantly less intimidating. Celestia was a few tables away from them, sipping tea by herself. Peko remembered her on the principle of her hair being an entity within itself that she couldn't quite understand. Hajime was making his way through cups of coffee and looking out the window, his hands reaching up to twirl a lock of hair that no longer existed two or three times in the few seconds Peko spent looking at him. Chiaki was passed out on his shoulder, but somehow still playing a videogame in her sleep. Across from those two was Komaeda, who was listening intently to Kotoko babble on about something. Peko remembered Kotoko painting her nails and pulling at her hair with a distant shudder of horror, not because she disliked the girl herself but because the whole incident made her think of Junko, who Peko was pretty sure she disliked. At best, she was creeped out by her. 

Upon seeing Peko, Kotoko waved enthusiastically and said something to Komaeda that she couldn't hear. Peko couldn't exactly wave with the crutches, but she nodded in acknowledgement and made her way to the buffet line, trying to figure out how she was going to balance a plate and crutches. 

Before she could worry about the mechanics of such a maneuver, Komaeda was at her side with a smile and a plate in his hand. “Hello, Peko! Do you need help with this? Even though I've heard that you’re immensely talented with a sword, it must be difficult for even you to fill up a plate while on crutches.”

“Assistance would be appreciated.” She said after a pause, trying not to sigh too audibly. Peko hadn't talked to Komaeda much, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to. Something about him seemed off to her and caused her to be suspicious of him and his motives.

“Ah, thank you for allowing me to help! Just tell me what you’d like, and I’ll get it for you!” He exclaimed, giving her a smile that was far too bright to not have an ulterior motive beneath it.

“...No problem.” Peko started making her way through the empty buffet line with Komaeda following behind her.

“So, how have you been feeling?” He asked as she stopped to examine the food, trying to decide what on earth to get.

“Well enough, I suppose. The hospital was dreary, but nothing unbearable.” Peko decided it would be best not to give him too much information for now, so she kept it brief.

“Hm. Yes, while I was there, everything did seem depressing, but I was told it was the best hospital in Chicago! While I was in the waiting room, I asked one of the doctors to move you somewhere more cheerful and better, but he said that Towa was the best of the best.” Komaeda pouted at the memory of the event, figuring that it must've been a result of his luck cycle rebounding on Peko. 

“You...Why would you do that?” She asked, shaking her head and looking at her options as far as fruit went because she had a feeling that eye contact with Nagito was not a good thing.

“To make sure you were getting the best care possible, of course!” Komaeda said this as if it was totally obvious and a normal thing to do for a practical stranger. “It’s my duty and my pleasure to make sure everyone and Hope’s Peak is as happy as possible.”

Peko had no comment to make to that, so she said nothing and let his words hang in the air. “Put a piece of watermelon on my plate, please.”

Nagito cheerfully obliged, picking the best piece he could find. The pair moved down the line and Peko made a point of not speaking to him except to ask him to put something on her plate. She was glad for his help, but that didn't change the fact that Komaeda creeped her out. Since she had no real regimen to follow as far as diet, she chose based on what would look pretty on her plate until she eventually found a food she actually wanted to eat. 

“Peko, if you don't mind me asking, how did you get hurt?” He asked as they waited for French toast to finish cooking.

“I walked in on a mugging.” She intended to just leave it at that, but he was looking at her expectantly and Peko would do anything for him to stop looking at her like she was somebody important with a story to tell. Maybe a detail would satisfy him. “I had my steel sword on me that day, but normally I carry my bamboo. I had to cut off one of their hands, and that would've been quite difficult to do with my normal one.”

“Wow, that was so brave!” He praised, and much to Peko’s horror, Komaeda was still looking at her. At least that was a solid thing that she knew about herself: she didn't like being looked at like so intensely. “Did you know them? The person that was being mugged?”

“No.” She answered automatically, and of all reactions Nagito could’ve had to that lie, he chuckled.

“I understand why you don't want to tell me the truth, but I talked to him, and he’s a worse liar than you. Fuyuhiko was his name, yes? Fuyuhiko Kuzu--” 

Before Komaeda could finish the question, Peko pointed a crutch at his throat and balanced on the other, prepared to attack him at the next word. “How did you find him?” She demanded, pushing the crutch further into his throat. No one was looking at them since they were all too tired and too preoccupied with their own business and Peko was careful to keep her voice down to a menacing whisper.

“Luck!” He answered, his voice coming out squeakier than it normally did. “I’m extraordinarily lucky. Always have been, you can ask anyone here! Anyways, I caught him walking outside of the hospital. I was there to find a Pikachu and he had just gotten approved to leave. I figured out that you were the one who saved him pretty quickly and I asked if he knew you. He denied it, and he seemed pretty upset when I called him out for lying. Then asked how I knew you and if you were okay. He wasn't too happy that I didn't know how you were and was even less happy that I met you at McDonald's. Fuyuhiko hates McDonald's, can you believe it?!” 

Peko kept the crutch there, not because she thought that Nagito was particularly dangerous at the moment, but so that he knew that she wasn't messing around when it came to Fuyuhiko and his safety. “I most certainly can believe it. How much did he tell you?”

“Not much, just that you were important to him and that I wasn't supposed to know that you were connected to each other. Oh, and I almost forgot, there was a blonde girl that was there, too! She showed up a few minutes into our conversation. I think that it was his sister. She has a good uppercut.” Komaeda rubbed his jaw as he remembered the punch he received. The bruise was faded, but visible if you knew where to look.

Peko almost laughed at the thought of Natsumi punching him and contemplated putting down her crutch, figuring that if he had to deal with Natsumi's punching then he most likely already suffered enough. But she decided not to do so just yet. “And he was okay? When you saw him, he was okay?”

“He was missing an eye, but other than that, perfectly fine!” Komaeda confirmed, his face lighting up when he saw that way all of the tension and anxiety left Peko’s stance when she heard that news. Even though Kirigiri reported the same thing, it was nice to have it confirmed. “I am curious though, how _did_ you meet him? You both seem pretty serious about not knowing each other and being secretive…”

Peko gave no response to this, deciding not to indulge his curiosity further. The toast finished and she put the crutch down, allowing Komaeda to grab the food and put it on her plate. “You're loyal to him, aren't you? You were happy and willing to die for him, to protect his secrets, to do whatever he asked you to do without a question. He's your hope, isn't he?! Fuyuhiko, I mean. He’s your hope and your love and you would die for him at a moment's notice, wouldn't you?! You would die for him any time.”

His words were feverishly fast and his eyes lit up with a manic energy. Komaeda followed after her, practically skipping to keep up with her since she was going as fast as possible to try and get away from him. Since her back was to him, Nagito couldn't see that Peko’s face was bright red and that she was taking slow, deep breaths to keep herself from smacking him with her crutches. She didn't say a word, not wanting to give away anything, and yet her silence said it all. He was able to step in front of her and stopped Peko dead in her tracks.

“You love him. That’s beautiful. That’s _so beautiful_ , Peko.” Komaeda whispered, a grin splitting his face in two. “You love him like I love hope, because he’s hope to you. And now you're sinking into despair because you think your hope is unreachable. But he isn't! Your hope is alive and well, and from your despair, a greater hope will be born.”

Peko didn't even pretend to think about what he said. It was better to save his words for later. Analyzing them now would give away too much emotion, and she couldn't do that in front of all of these people. She moved past him and Komaeda followed obediently behind her. “Not a word.” Peko told him as they came closer to the table. “Not a word of this to anyone.”

“Of course not! I wouldn't dream of it.” He promised, pulling out a chair for her and wincing when her crutch landed on his foot. Later, he would find out that she broke three of his toes with that, but his face never moved from the familiar, empty smile.

“Was he going on about the stupid hope stuff?” Kotoko asked, noticing that Peko looked irritated and upset when just minutes before she looked fairly normal. “I told you not to! Junko’s gonna be mad if you did.”

Komaeda bowed his head and put Peko’s plate down. “My apologies. It’s just an important message! Hope is--”

“I’m going to cut you off right there.” Hajime interrupted, rubbing his eyes. 

Just at that phrase, Komaeda fell silent and started picking at the tablecloth. Peko shot Hajime a look of thanks that he appeared to understand. 

“So! I have a very, very, very important question for you!” Kotoko announced, resting her chin in her hand and smiling at Peko. “But you can eat first, you look like you’re hungry. Did you know that it takes forty days to die of starvation? I don’t think you’re going to starve to death, though.”

Peko began to eat, raising an eyebrow at the fact Kotoko so cheerfully told her. “That’s interesting.”

“Mhmmm! I know lots and lots of interesting facts. Like, did you know that that you can pronounce the word ‘interesting’ with either three or four syllables? Both are right, technically. One of my teachers made me look it up because I asked her and she was like 'Well, Ms.Utsugi, why don't you look it up and tell the class?’ So I did. She was an awful teacher! And she had this really weird mole on her nose and _hair_ grew out from it. Not just one hair, but like, _lots_ of hair. Can hair even grow on noses? People can grow hair lots of places, but I've never seen anyone else with hair on their nose. You know what else people have on their noses? Blackheads. Lots and lots of little tiny blackheads that never ever go away. I tried to get rid of all the ones on Nagito’s nose and it didn't work! Nagito also never brushes his hair and it’s all matted and frizzy. Look at it! _Sooooooo_ not adorbs. You know what else isn’t adorbs?” Kotoko actually paused there after going on for at least two solid minutes. Peko actually managed to follow her rambling, even if her train of thought was convoluted and odd.

“What?” She asked as she finished up her French toast, not finding it in herself to unironically say the word adorbs. Even if Kotoko’s talkativeness could get annoying, it was better than Komaeda’s hope rambles, so Peko would take it.

Kotoko took a deep breath before continuing her speech. “This cat that Gundham’s trying to get rid of! Well, it’s still mostly a kitten. Her name is Elsie, her old owners left her in a dumpster, she’s albino, and like, she's not ugly but also not adorbs, you know? She’s spooky-looking but not hideous. And she really doesn't like most people. She tried to bite Monaca _and_ Junko! And Gundham’s been going on and on and on about how he wants to find a proper home for this ugly-cute cat, so I was like, 'Hey, I know a spooky-looking but not hideous girl who doesn't really like people and is albino like Elsie!’ So I told him that you’d go see Elsie after group today. You’ll do it, right? Gundham’s really weird, but not dangerous, I promise!”

Peko thought about it for a moment, frowning at a spot in the distance. She wasn't sure if she could take care of a cat, but if nobody else wanted it and it needed her help, she couldn't refuse. Plus, she had always had a weakness for fluffy animals, even if said fluffy animals didn't like her back.

“I think a cat would be good.” Chiaki said, glancing up from her video game. “Cats are nice and not a lot of work. And they're soft…”

“Elsie bit me, too! She’s a feisty little cat!” Komaeda laughed at the memory, rubbing the back of his hand.

“Nobody cares about you.” Kotoko told him, glaring at him with all the ferocity an eleven-year-old could have. “What do you say?”

“It couldn't hurt to see her.” Peko decided, hoping that maybe Gundham could teach her how to get other animals to like her. That would be nice.

“Great!” Kotoko clapped her hands together and then waved enthusiastically at a boy that came down. “Catch ya later! I’m gonna go see Nagisa.” With that, she was off like a shot, shouting to get the attention of a boy who was presumably Nagisa.

Breakfast after that was a peaceful, quiet affair in which Chiaki played video games, Hajime watched and occasionally made jokes, Komaeda laughed at said jokes, and Peko watched their interactions with a scientific interest, trying to pick apart how exactly human interaction worked. Hajime even talked to Peko a few times, which was both flattering and confusing. Time passed quickly after that, between Ibuki’s newest songs and Hajime’s sarcastic jabs and avoiding Komaeda, and before she knew it or even wanted it to happen, it was time for group therapy.

The room used for group therapy was easily one of the largest rooms in Hope’s Peak. There were large windows which were kept open, a table with various snacks, and a large circle of about thirteen chairs in the middle. When Peko arrived, Chisa, Komaeda, Mikan, Naegi, and two girls she didn’t recognize were already there. Peko chose a seat by the windows so that she was able to see the door (it was a protection thing; it was always best to see whatever enemy could come through the door), but she was slightly annoyed because she’d have rather been in a corner, but there were no corners to choose from.

The room slowly but surely started to fill and Peko ended up with Ibuki on one side and someone who introduced himself as the Dark Lord, Gundham Tanaka, and brought with him his Four Dark Devas of Destruction (they were four really fluffy hamsters that were absolutely _adorable_ ) and insisted on knowing if Peko was on the side of the light and if she was the one interested in taking the Ferocious Hell Beast referred to as Elsie. Before she could answer, Chisa started to talk.

“Alright! Before we begin, we have a new member! Mind introducing yourself?” Chisa turned towards the girl and smiled.

“I’m Peko Pekoyama.” She said stiffly, folding her hands in her lap. 

There was an echo of “Hi, Peko,” Before the meeting resumed as normal. She stayed silent and chose to observe, watching as they discussed goals they came up with last time and goals for the next few days. Ibuki declared success with her goal, since she was able to make a new friend and enthusiastically pointed to Peko when she was asked who her friend was. The attention made her uncomfortable, but she kept her face as blank as possible.

“Well, since you weren’t here last time, we can’t ask you about how your goal went, but we can help you figure out a good goal for next time!” Chisa declared, smiling at her student. “What’s something you want to improve on?”

Peko thought about what _she_ wanted, a practice that was mostly foreign to her. She figured that wanting death wasn't something she could say and nor could she say that she wanted to find a new purpose in life because that wasn’t possible to do in three or four days. The silence that grew as she thought about it served to make her feel more awkward and she shifted slightly in her seat, focusing on a spot right above Chisa’s head. “Does being able to come up with a goal count as a goal?”

“No!” Saionji interjected. “You waste all of our time as you try to think of something and you come up with that? That’s stupid.”

“Hiyoko.” Chisa said, giving her a disappointed look. 

“Whaaaaaat?” She asked, pouting and crossing her arms.

“While I dislike disagreeing with that creature of the light, I do believe she has a point. If Kotoko believes you capable of taming the Hell Beast, you are certainly capable of loftier goals.” Gundham said, one of his Four Dark Devas briefly exiting the scarf before going right back in.

“Well, not coming up with a goal means that you don't know what you want to do, right?” Chiaki asked, putting down her video game for a second.

“That sounds correct.” Peko agreed. 

“Then maybe find something you like to do.” Chiaki suggested.

The idea sounded good to Peko, but she thought of what new thing she should try. There were so many possibilities out there. She could draw or cook or learn to play the guitar or try a new drink or collect coins or do her hair differently or whatever. There were so many options and Peko wished that she could just go back to when life was easier, when what she had to do was spelled out in front of her. Being a real person in the real world was confusing and messy and confusing. There were rules that she didn’t know and systems she didn’t understand and people she couldn’t figure out. Peko looked around for someone to say something to her, to tell her what to do or give her a purpose or make things clear for her. “What should I do?” She asked the group, feeling awkward and vulnerable by admitting that she wasn’t sure where to even start.

When an opinionated redhead (Peko was fairly sure her name was Mahiru) opened her mouth, she could’ve cried from joy. “That’s something you need to decide for yourself! It’s for you, after all, and you need to take responsibility for your actions! You _are_ a person, after all.”

Something in the last sentence hit Peko to her core and lead her down a train of thought she hadn’t previously considered, one that she wished she could unconsider. As the group debated what she ought to do or if they should even be discussing it, Peko thought about the people she had killed. When she was a tool that worked, it was easy. She was used to get enemies out of the way. Simple. No one blamed the sword for a murder, it was always the person wielding it. But if she was a person, and so many people seemed to think she was, and people had to take responsibility for their actions, then it was all her. If she was a person and had been one the whole time, then she was the sort of person who, at eight years old, could kill a man right after Easter Mass and not feel guilty about it. She was the sort of person who cut off limbs and lives because somebody hinted that they wanted it done and she could do it. Peko vividly remembered an incident from elementary school, back from when she was old enough to kill but young enough not to figure out when. Someone had insulted Fuyuhiko’s father and he said he wished somebody would kill him, so Peko followed the man to his home and nearly beat him to death with her bamboo sword just to please her old master. Fuyuhiko looked sick when he heard the news that the man his father wished death upon nearly died less than an hour and he regretted ever agreeing with the sentiment. Peko’s only regret had been that he lived. And that was the sort of person she was, one that could barely count as human. She was more than a sword now, but not by much. She was a person, and an absolutely disgusting one.

“Well, why don’t we ask what Peko thinks about this?” Naegi suggested, turning towards her with a smile. “What do you think?”

Again, the eyes in the room turned to her and Peko tried to just focus on Naegi, who looked like he would sit there and wait for her answer no matter how long it took without a single complaint. “I think that we’ve spent too much time discussing it.” She said. “I’ll try something new. I don’t need to decide exactly what right now.”

There was a general agreement with her sentiment and so Peko lapsed back into her silence and tried desperately to remember the names of each person she killed or maimed. The list was too long for her to know even half of them. She didn’t even notice the meeting ended until she was one of the only people left in the room. Peko looked out the window at the busy streets filled with people who never had blood on their hands and desperately wished that she could be one of them, any of them, anyone but who she was right now.

“You had inquiries about the Hell Beast, yes?” Gundham interrupted her thoughts with a question about Elsie and Peko responded with a nod. “Then we must enter my lair!”

Peko followed after him and listened as he explained the exact roles of each animal he had in his demonic hierarchy and how Elsie needed a new home despite her high rank because she supposedly sparked a conflict with the Dogs of War and their numerous allies, which Peko interpreted as she disliked dogs and their owners. The lair was another room much like hers, but filled with animals so cute that Peko couldn’t help but smile.

“Now, in order to properly interact with a Creature of the Dark, you must come to their level and let them investigate you. Make it clear that you mean them no harm and come as an ally, and they will soon adore you! Like so.” Gundham demonstrated by laying down in the middle of the floor and soon he was all but covered in various animals who were sniffing him and giving him kisses.

It was difficult for Peko to get to the exact position he was in, but she managed to do so and closed her eyes. She felt foolish, laying there on the floor, until she felt something amazingly soft and fluffy brush up against her cheek. Her eyes opened instantly and she saw a beautiful white kitten giving her a curious sniff. Peko laid perfectly still and the cat seemed to be satisfied by this, so she jumped up onto her chest. She felt entirely unworthy of this cat’s attentions, but she seemed lonely and Peko wasn’t going to just ignore her. She cautiously put out a hand and started petting the kitten, who purred happily and took that as her cue to take a nap.

“You have tamed the Hell Beast! A truly amazing feat.” Gundham congratulated, picking up the sleeping cat and helping Peko to her feet. “I trust you take custody of Elsie. I will safely deliver her to your domain! In which area of this building does it reside?”

“Fifth floor, room 528.” Peko said, still looking happily at Elsie. Maybe there was hope for her to be a better person, despite what she had done. Maybe she could improve.

Gundham led her through the specifics of taking care of a cat as they went to her room.and soon left Peko with her new pet. She alternated between writing down the names of those she had hurt and watching Elsie investigate her new surroundings. Peko felt mostly miserable with little glimmers of hope and eventually fell asleep with a list of names in her hand and a trusting kitten at her side who didn’t seem to mind being petted by bloodied hands and loved by a murderer’s heart. Maybe there was hope for her yet.


	10. Meanwhile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sort of short and sort of shitty and sort of late, but I'm really sick right now and I promise I'll edit it up and make it perfect once I feel better! And also, thanks to everyone that's left comments and kudos so far, I really appreciate it!

In a house not too far from Hope’s Peak and not too long after the start of the group therapy session, a very different sort of meeting was taking place. Six people sat around a kitchen table, some looking far more comfortable and happy to be there than others. Natsumi looked positively at home and hadn’t even bothered to get out of her pajamas for the occasion while on the other end of things, Ryouta Mitarai sat perfectly straight and kept fiddling with his tie while trying to ignore the glances Natsumi was giving him.

“Alright!” Ruruka began, cutting into the cake she had brought. “Let the first meeting of the Find Peko Organization begin!” 

“Find Peko Organization...And why am I part of this again?” Sakakura asked, glaring at the Kuzuryuus who had dragged him here on his day off. 

Natsumi cleared her throat and pulled out her phone, unlocking it and then reading from a screenshot. “To Chisa Yukizome, sent from Juzo Sakakura’s phone: I don’t know, I’ve been in love with Munakata since elementary school but I just think that--”

“WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?!” He demanded, getting up from his seat and letting the chair fall to the floor with a clang.

“Your phone’s passcode is Kyosuke and his number is 867-553-2109.” Natsumi smirked, putting her phone back down. “I heard you on the phone with him a few days ago, you left your phone on the counter, and I figured out the rest from there. I personally think you should tell him sooner rather than later, but hey, it’s not my life and I’ll be more than happy to stay out of it if you just help with this one little thing.” 

Juzo returned his chair to his normal position and sat back down and snatched a plate from Ruruka’s hand, beginning to drown his problems in chocolate cake while softly muttering about nosy teenage girls and the fact that they were basically evil. 

“Um, so who’s Peko again?” Ryouta asked, nervously twirling the fork around his hand. “Ruruka didn’t tell me much, just that she was a bakery regular.”

Fuyuhiko glanced over at Ruruka, who merely shrugged. “I figured it would be best to give everyone a recap so that we all know the same things, and I also had to do some matters of cousin-ly importance.” She said in response to the look. Fuyuhiko nodded and began to nibble on his cake.

“So, the recap.” Izayoi began, not seeming too bothered about the rules of etiquette that said talking with a mouthful of cake was improper.

“Right! Take it away, Fuyu. You were the last person to really see her.” Natsumi gestured to her brother. “Start from the very very veryyyyy beginning.”

Fuyuhiko sighed, not really wanting to explain the whole thing. Sure, he loved and trusted Natsumi, Ruruka, and Izayoi, but he was still suspicious of Ryouta (even if he was Ruruka’s cousin) and Sakakura and he really didn’t want to seem like a sentimental little bitch in front of those two. Or the other three for that matter, but he knew that he was the best one to tell the story. “So, Peko Pekoyama. Her parents ditched her in a dumpster before she was even like, a week old and we ended up picking her up. She was raised to be my bodyguard and lived here and was basically one of the most important people in my life. She was always there, you know? Always. And then she got fired and kicked out because she made one mistake and even though she fixed it, my father decided to be a jackass. After that, there was a week where we really don’t know where the fuck she was or what the fuck she was doing--The only person who knows is the creepiest motherfucker in Chicago and that dude is a lying bastard and we also don’t know where the fuck he went. But she showed up right when I was about to get my ass kicked, got shot a few times, and now we don’t know where she is again. Last we heard was from the bastard and that she was in a hospital and not doing so well but that was a few days ago. And that’s the recap.”

There was a brief pause after Fuyuhiko’s accurate explanation. When he wasn’t looking at Natsumi, she mouthed a quick “They’re in love, but they’re both in MAJOR denial” to Juzo and Ryouta. Ruruka nodded in agreement with this analysis, and Sonosuke ate his cake and pretended that they weren’t silently discussing his training buddy’s love life.

“Hey, you didn’t tell me about the dude!” Ruruka said, puffing out her cheeks in irritation. “Who’s he? And how can we find him?”

Natsumi laughed as she remembered him and Fuyuhiko shook his head, fussing with his eyepatch. “His name’s Nagito Something, and like I said, he’s a _bastard_. About my age, fairly tall, thin as a twig, the only person I’ve ever seen who’s as pale as Peko, crazy white hair, a super creepy smile, and I swear to god, this motherfucker even _smells_ like crazy. Have you ever smelt crazy? Let me tell you, it smells like generic Dollar Store shampoo and fryer grease. Not a fun scent. So I’m walking around the hospital, trying to catch a Pikachu and adjust to doing that sans an eye and minding my own business like a responsible fucking citizen and this little shit comes up to me and he’s also catching the Pikachu. So we talk about Pokemon for a bit and I think, hey, maybe he smells weird and has crazy eyes and is wearing the most awful fucking hoodie I’ve ever seen, but maybe he isn’t too bad. I mean, Izayoi smells like he just walked out of a burning building and has a horrible fashion sense and he’s one of my best friends. Then we’re talking about why we’re at the hospital and he was just there for the Pikachu, but I tell him I got mugged. He starts asking me about it and I tell him I was saved by a girl with a sword. Then he asks if I knew her and I lie, because shit, she’s off somewhere living her own life and I’m still getting a creepy vibe about this guy so I don’t want to tell him about Peko.”

“Bad move. You’re not a good liar.” Izayoi said between mouthfuls of cake. 

Fuyuhiko scoffed and shook his head. “Yeah, I know, fucker. You’re just as bad as me. But then he accuses me of lying and starts going on about hope and some shit and then Nat showed up and--”

“And I punched him!” She announced cheerfully. “I asked what he was doing because he was obviously being a dick but then he goes off on me about getting in the way of true hope so I just went like ka- **BOOM!** ” Natsumi mimed punching him, making an effort to look far cooler than she probably had during the occasion.

“Don’t tuck your thumbs in when you punch. That’s a fast way to break a finger.” Juzo warned, and Natsumi huffed loudly.

“Hey, don’t be drawing now! This is important!” Fuyuhiko said to Ryouta, who was furiously scribbling.

“Um, sorry, I just thought that maybe if I drew him accurately and put up posters, then maybe somebody could find him…” He explained, putting down his pencil.

“Oh shit, that’s actually a good idea.” Fuyuhiko agreed, looking over at his drawing. “Wow, that’s actually accurate, too..You’ve got his crazy homeless look down.”

“Heh, thanks.” Ryouta picked the pencil back up and continued his drawing.

“Maybe you could draw one for Peko. I’m sure there’s pictures of her somewhere and most of us know what she looks like.” Izayoi suggested, earning nods of agreement from around the table.

Natsumi thought about who should do what and came up with a solid idea in less than two seconds. “Okay, so Ryouta, Ruruka, and I can put posters up, and the rest of you can start interrogating various hotel staff members and see who remembers her. I mean, she definitely would've gone to a hotel because she got kicked out pretty late at night. Any disagreements?” She didn’t allow a long enough pause for anyone to agree before letting out a dramatic “Great! I’ll text you some pictures of her, she’s in the background of a million of my selfies and I actually convinced her to take one but she’s sooooooo camera shy.”

After that, the conversation split into two clear groups. The first was made up of Ruruka, Ryouta, and Natsumi and they were sharing pictures of Peko and debating who’s phone number should be put on the sign. Eventually they decided to put down Izayoi’s, since he had a plan with free calling and nobody who ever checked his phone. He agreed to this from the other side of the table, where he, Fuyuhiko, and Juzo were pouring over a map of the city and trying to divide it up into sections. Most of it was Sakakura and Fuyuhiko arguing over which hotels she was more likely to stay at.

“She would’ve gone pretty far, but not _too_ far. Probably around here.” Fuyuhiko said, gesturing to part of the map.

Juzo shook his head. “I doubt it. She would’ve stayed close. It was raining and she was without an umbrella. I’d say she wouldn’t go more than 3 blocks.”

“There isn’t even a hotel in 3 blocks!” Fuyuhiko protested, pointing to all of the hotels he marked. “Besides, the bastard told her to leave and not come back. She would’ve gone.”

Once again, he shook his head. “I’m telling ya, she stayed close. I’d bet my life on it.”

“Why? Do you know something?” He badgered, partially hoping that he did just so that somebody knew _something_ instead of everything being so vague and awful.

Ruruka watched the two bicker back and forth and she came to the conclusion that Sakakura did know something, but that fighting wasn’t the way to get it out of him. Right between them was Izayoi, who was now doodling on the map. Ruruka smiled as she watched him, seeming to be perfectly at peace in the middle of the argument. She’d be able to get information out of Juzo, she was certain of it. She just had to wait for the right time.

The meeting ended a few hours later, since Ruruka had to go back to work and Ryouta was getting antsy about a deadline and Sakakura was desperate to enjoy his day off. Sonosuke ended up staying for a while, if only because Fuyuhiko looked miserable and even if Fuyuhiko was impossible to deal with when he was miserable and Izayoi had never been /too/ close to him (mostly they were video game and cake buddies), it was clear that Peko had loved him and that he had loved her and he figured that the more people who were around him that cared about the girl in question, the better it was for everyone. 

“I keep looking to my right.” Fuyuhiko said just as Sonosuke started to head home. “She was always to my right and just one step behind and I keep looking, even though it’s useless and fucking annoying. I know she’s not there--Hell, I couldn’t even see her if she was--but I just keep looking and I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

Izayoi didn’t have much to say to that impromptu confession, so he just nodded and briefly put a hand on his shoulder. “Wherever she is, I’m certain she’s looking forward and to the left.” He isn’t sure if that thought was at all helpful, but as he thought of Peko running with a sword bag strapped to her back and the way her face lit up when Sonosuke asked her about the boy she always talked to in the shop and her speeches about how she would cut what she had to cut to protect who she had to protect, he knew that it was true.

***

Time passed. Summer flew by Peko by in a whirlwind of choices. Every decision she made was like hell for everyone else, since she was so unused to them that it took hours upon hours. What collar and toys to get for Elsie took nearly a whole day, it took two weeks for her to decide which colors to paint the bedroom at her mother’s house that she’d eventually move into, it took her at least five minutes to come up with a goal for group therapy, and shopping for clothes and school supplies was so miserable with her mother subtly trying to rush the process and the sales people getting frustrated that she walked all around Chicago until she found the department store she went to before her court date and waited until Nekomaru got there and he could help her. Even if he was a little obnoxious and made a shocking amount of shit jokes, Peko decided that she liked him because he was so damn nice.

That was another thing she did that summer. It was Chisa’s suggestion, figuring out what she liked and disliked. She said it would be a good place to start with knowing herself, and Peko agreed. She now knew that she liked pretty stationary and locked-room mysteries and clothes that were both dark and girlish (she had more floaty black skirts than any girl realistically needed, but each of them was slightly different and the difference mattered). She also knew that she didn’t like being asked about what happened to her and she didn’t like romantic comedies and she still didn’t like any candies except for a select few that Ruruka made that she could no longer eat. She could never go back to Ando’s Cakes and Confections and she could never go running on Thursdays with Izayoi and she could never go back to her old dojo or her old dance studio, but that didn’t mean the activities were gone forever. As soon as August rolled around and she could be without her crutches, Nekomaru and Akane ran with her on Wednesdays and Sundays and Peko once again had her beloved sword in her hands and pointe shoes on her feet.

Her sword would never be used to kill again, she decided. Not unless she or someone she cared about was outright attacked. Peko worked on memorizing the names of each person she had killed or maimed and for the ones whose names she didn’t know, she made up names that seemed accurate. More than that, she tried to remember one fact about them. It took a while to do, but she eventually memorized each name and said every single one before she fell asleep. Even if she couldn’t undo what she had done, she could never do it again and attempt to be a better person. During one of the awkward Monday dinners at her father’s house, Peko said that she thought she should be a doctor because not only did they do no harm, but they saved people. That was the only thing she had said that her father agreed with and the only way Peko could think of to redeem herself. If she could save one life for each one she had taken away, she could be forgiven, but not until then. 

There were still a few things that weren’t good about her new life. She worried about the Kuzuryuus from afar, sometimes pacing for hours at a time as she tried to think her way into knowing how they were. Who cooked breakfast and who got things from the top shelves? Who reminded Natsumi to wipe off her eyeliner and who gave Mr.Kuzuryuu his tea and who helped Mrs. Kuzuryuu set the table? Who watched zombie movies with Fuyuhiko and listened to him talk about weird art he had found and went with him to Ando’s? How was he adjusting without an eye? How had their lives changed without her? How had things shifted? Were things better now? Were they happy? Peko could spend hours contemplating these things, going around and around until she exhausted herself. Peko never knew how exhausting it was, worrying like this. There seemed to be no end to it and no way to resolve it. She would be perfectly fine but then something would remind her of her fall from favor and then she would be off in a hell of anxiety and worthlessness with no observable signs of it on her face.

Other than that, Peko disliked her father and how miserable he made Kiyotaka. Kiyotaka’s mother never stayed in the same room as Peko for long, something she could understand, but her father was a mystery that she didn’t particularly want to solve. She didn’t like how hectic Hope’s Peak could be and Peko hated how sometimes she’d catch Komaeda looking at her with a taunting face of “I know” and then a sympathetic glance. The sympathy angered her more than the arrogance. Anger, Peko discovered, was by far the easiest emotion to recognize and feel and do something about. It was a good distraction from the fact that she still was fundamentally useless.

Eventually, it dawned on Peko that she would actually have to go back to school. She had never gone to school without Fuyuhiko before, and even if they pretended not to know each other, it was a terrifying thought. She always sat right behind him and waited until he passed two street lights before she walked back to her home and always did her homework at the same time he did so that they could help each other. The uniform wasn’t too different from the one she had worn at her old school, except the skirt was an inch shorter and the tights Peko normally wore were an official uniform requirement once October came around.

The night before the first day of school was a flurry of schedule comparison and finishing summer work. Peko never looked up from the book she ought to have read earlier but didn’t, but she left her schedule right by her spot in the lobby and judged which classes she had with each person just by listening to their voices.

“Huh? Ibuki has English with the Awesome Peko? Yay!” She cheered, ruffling Peko’s hair as she read.

Next up was Komaeda, who looked even paler than the day before.“Ah, my luck really must be good if I have biology and lunch with you! Now what horrible thing will balance that out?

“O-oh, wow, we have geometry together! And lunch. Junko’s in that lunch, too!” Mikan’s face lit up as she mentioned Junko, but something in the way she smiled made Peko shiver.

“Aw yeah, history with Peko! We’ll rock it!” Akane held out her hand for a high five and Peko obliged, smiling slightly from behind her book. 

Junko slid down next to her, giving Peko a grin that seemed partially predatory but also somewhat friendly. She snaked an arm around her shoulder and tried to get between her and the book. “Lunch, geometry, _and_ study hall? We’re going to be great friends. Maybe you can show me what you have planned for the choreography during study hall, yeah?”

“If I don’t have any other work.” Peko said stiffly, bringing the book closer to her face. Junko giggled and then flounced away, heading towards another group while waving her own schedule. Peko ended up falling asleep in the lobby and was woken up at 3 am by a blurry-eyed Mondo who all but dragged her to her room, half-lecturing her for falling asleep in the lobby and half falling asleep himself. 

Getting ready for school in the morning was a form of torture to which Peko would not subject any human. She didn’t want to go back to school because it was another thing throwing distance between where she was at the beginning of summer and where she was now. Even if Peko was mostly okay with her new life, she would have infinitely preferred to go back. It was easier, it was familiar, it was effortless for her. The process of socializing and being normal and making friends and trying to be a person, this was difficult. The halls of St.Bernadette’s were winding and confusing, even with the map that Kiyotaka had given her. She knew a person or two in every class, but it was mostly strange new faces that she was very wary of. It was her distrust of strangers that led her to sit next to Junko in lunch and geometry and to deal with Komaeda’s well-intentioned but annoying questions during bio and to witness Mikan’s lovesick face when Junko waved at her.

When the final bell rang, Peko almost ran for the exit. She had dinner with the Ishimarus later, but that wasn’t for a few hours. She would have time to recoup from her exhausting day and change out of her uniform and maybe even take a nap. Peko just had to make it back to her room and everything would be alright.

Or not.

Peko opened the door and for a moment, everything appeared normal. Her bed was nearly made, her things were all in the right spot, and Elsie was taking a nice nap on a pile of blankets that Peko left there for her. Everything was perfect normal except for the posters all over her walls, ones that hadn’t been there when she left in the morning. There must have been at least 20 of them, each the same size, each with _Have you seen me?_ on the top in large, black letters. There was a phone number on the bottom, but it had been clearly scribbled out with Sharpie. Peko took a step back and looked at the face on the posters. She saw herself staring back, serious and poised with neat braids and a sailor suit uniform. It was her how she had been just a few months the ago, down to the most minute detail. As she stared, Peko heard a sound halfway between a scream and a sob. It took her quite a while to realize the noise was coming from her own mouth.


	11. Spider Webs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so close to updating this on Thursday, but I had 1000 words left to write :( Ah well, have this update and have a good day!

Peko’s startled shriek echoed throughout the empty hallway and she backed away from her room until her back hit the opposite wall. She suddenly silenced herself, watching as Elsie woke up and looked around in immense confusion. Peko closed her eyes and focused on evening out her breathing before she entered and examined the room closer. She had been found. Somebody was looking for her and they found her and if the fact that they plastered her room with the posters was an indication of anything, it showed an attempt to harm her. She was in danger, and so was everyone she knew. Peko wanted to leave Chicago now, since she could no longer fulfil her duty and she was putting people who cared about her in danger, but of she left and something happened…Without even bothering to close the door, Peko sank to the floor and closed her eyes once more. 

It was Junko who found her. She examined the scene (how odd those posters were, how strange it was to see Peko so obviously distressed, how odd and strange and _wonderful_ ) and grabbed one of the posters. Peko didn’t even open her eyes to see who was there. She never wanted to open her eyes again. Her thoughts were a frantic flurry of _They found me, they found me, they found me_ that wouldn’t slow down or stop no matter how hard she tried. Peko didn’t even know who they were, but they found her and clearly didn’t have good intentions.

“Oh my god, this is so creepy!” Junko exclaimed. She glared at the cat who was clearly unhappy to see her before turning to Peko. “Lu-Lu, are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She choked out, placing a hand over her throat. It was like trying to speak through a straw that was on fire and she could feel her hands shaking and lips quivering and Peko hated it, she hated being so vulnerable. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“You know, you’re not a very good liar when you’re upset.” Junko said, placing a hand on her hip. “Come on, come to my room for a little bit. Maybe we can figure out what’s going on here!”

Peko nodded weakly and let Junko lead her away by the hand and close the door. She opened her eyes as they walked to her room. It was on the second floor and an absolute mess, yet it was weirdly comforting to be surrounded by so many things. Junko forced her to sit on the bed and Peko couldn’t find it in her to fight Enoshima’s influence.

Junko wrapped a blanket around the albino and then pulled her closer. Peko didn’t look at her and chose to fix her gaze on the only part of the wall that wasn’t covered with a poster or a picture. 

“You know, I bet it was Teruteru that put those there. He gets turned on by that sort of thing. Or maybe it was Komaeda, he’s kinda creepy like that.” Junko suggested, practically pulling Peko onto her lap. She was entirely unresponsive to this, still lost in her frantic thoughts. She felt like a frozen computer, stuck on one screen on the outside while the internal mechanisms were going haywire.

“But who made them.” Peko asked, but her voice didn’t raise at the end of that statement like it ought to have with a question. Instead it was perfectly monotone, reflecting the dull horror that was threatening to suffocate her. 

“I...Well, I don’t know.” Junko said meekly, squeezing Peko as if she was a teddy bear. She finally looked at her pigtailed companion and she looked downright terrified. 

“I have a few ideas, but none of them are very good.” Peko admitted, thinking of groups she had angered with her assassinations or people who would want to cause Fuyuhiko some form of emotional harm. She knew that he had some sort of attachment to her, one that she couldn’t understand, and she knew that other people figured out about it. It never crossed her mind that someone with good intentions could be looking for her. “If it’s some of the people I think it is, then everyone’s in danger, not just me. Everyone I know could be in danger.”

“Even me?” Junko asked, her voice seeming to shrink.

“Even you.” Peko confirmed, turning her face away. They sat like that for a while, Peko wrapped in a blanket and half on Junko’s lap while Junko hid her head in Peko’s shoulder and let out occasional sniffles. After a few minutes, Junko pulled Peko entirely onto her lap and looked up at her, eyes sparkling with tears.

“You’ll protect me, right? I know that maybe I haven’t been the best at interacting with you, but I don’t really know how to talk to people and I’m really scared and you’re so strong and cool and--”

“I will.” Peko promised, half to cut off her ramble before it got out of hand and half because she could understand not being good at talking to others. Maybe Junko was like her, lonely and isolated and scared, but with a radically different way of showing it. “Of course I will. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

“Thank you!” Junko exclaimed, nestling her head in Peko’s shoulder once again. Peko awkwardly patted her back, listening to her relieved sobs. If Peko had just gotten a bit further away from her, if she had forced Junko off of her, she would see the devilish grin painted on her face. Another cog in Junko Enoshima’s machine of a plan had just fallen nearly into place, just as she knew it would. Maybe it wasn’t exactly how she planned it to go (the posters had been quite a shock ), but Junko knew she’d get Peko eventually and it was all downhill for her from there.

“I have to go to my father’s soon.” Peko said, beginning to untangle herself from Junko.

“You don’t look like you really want to.” Junko noted. 

“I don’t.” Peko admitted, getting up from the bed and straightening out her school uniform. She looked at herself in Junko’s mirror and almost stepped back in shock. Just the day before, she had looked perfectly normal, almost like a real girl. But now she looked worse than she had at the hospital. Peko could practically see herself decomposing in front of her eyes. she felt like she was rotting from the outside and it was slowly working its way inwards until soon enough that a simple touch would cause her to disintegrate into a pile of rusted steel and rotting bones and empty, candy red eyes. She turned back to look at Junko, who was staring up at her with clear admiration. Maybe it was just a trick of the light that made her look so weak and empty, because Junko was looking at her like she was a goddess. 

Junko stretched out her legs and then started to take off her tights, which were horribly itchy. “Then skip it with me.” She suggested, freeing one leg.

“It’s court ordered.” Peko told her, giving her an apologetic smile.

“Okayyyyyy. But hang out with Mikan and I once you get back, alright? She needs more friends and I’m trying to help her.” Junko kicked off the tights completely and stood up to go look for something on her dresser.

“Okay.” Peko agreed, watching as she pulled out two neat black ribbons and approach her. Wordlessly, Junko tied them to the end of her braids in perfect little bows. 

“I think these look cute on you.” Junko decided, twisting her hair around her fingers. Peko cringed when she pulled on them and turned bright red when Junko brought the ends up to her lips and kissed them. “Have fun with your dad!”

Peko was quick to leave after that and return to her room, which was still plastered with the posters. She took each of them down carefully, trying to read the name and number through the Sharpie with limited success. All she figured out was that the name had and A and an S somewhere in it, which wasn’t very helpful. The number was so obscured that she didn’t even know where to begin. Even though Peko just wanted the damn things _gone_ , she put them into a neat pile, put a sticky-noted date on top of them, and shoved them under her bed. Technically, she knew that she ought to tell someone about this, but she couldn’t imagine Monomi or Chisa being of any help in this situation. 

Once everything was neatly put away, Peko turned her attention to the increasingly distressed Elsie. She ran her hands through her soft white fur, keeping her focus on the kitten and the clock. She couldn’t even be bothered to get out of her school uniform or move from the floor. Eventually, Peko forced herself to get up and leave for her father’s, mostly because she didn’t want to deal with the repercussions of skipping. She left without much of a fuss, occasionally glancing down at her new phone just to look occupied as she walked. There was nobody for her to text except for her family at this point, so she just ended up opening and closing the same few apps while on the crowded subway. A few times, Peko felt somebody staring at her, but whenever she turned her head, the person was seemingly gone. The feeling of being watched haunted her until she finally made it to the front door of her father’s house. Her knocks on the door were louder and more frantic than usual, but her face was as blank as always.

“Lucille...Come in, please. Takaaki will be home in just a few minutes.” Mrs. Ishimaru told her, taking in the appearance of this girl who was almost her daughter, who she could’ve raised and nurtured and understood. She perhaps could’ve forgiven her husband if he had just told her when it happened and brought her into the family, but now she couldn’t look Peko without feeling sick to her stomach.

“Thank you.” Peko stepped inside after glancing over her shoulder once more, just to make sure nobody was there. She slipped off her shoes and examined the house. It looked just like it had the last Monday, clean and industrial and freezing cold. It looked more like a model house that realtors showed off to possible buyers than a place anyone actually lived in, and that made Peko nervous about touching anything in there. 

Mrs. Ishimaru was quick to find some excuse to leave the room, saying something vague about a curtain and dust. Peko was halfway through offering to help her when she shut the door. Peko sat down on one of the dining room chairs, resting her chin in her hands and making a list of people who might be looking for her. She also tried to think who she could call from before to help her trace everything back, but she drew blanks. It would be better for everyone involved if the Kuzuryuus thought that she left Chicago and almost every name she came up with would certainly tell them. Junko had implied that she would be willing to help and while Peko didn’t know how good she was at hunting people down, she certainly would know somebody who was an excellent tracker. Junko just seemed like the sort of person who knew everyone, like she was a spider at the center of the web and everyone else was just threads in the periphery that she could twist to her liking. But no, she was certainly more vulnerable than that. Certainly she was, there was no way what Peko saw just a few minutes ago could have been fake.

Just as Peko was thinking of a better way to describe Junko, Kiyotaka entered the dining room. He looked far too excited for what was inevitably going to be another awkward family dinner, especially when it was directly after the first day of school. In fact, he seemed more energetic than usual, either not noticing or not being intimidated by the rotting mass of ivory steel and fragile flesh and black ribbons that sat in front of him without any movement.

“Lucy!” He greeted enthusiastically, sitting down across from her and beaming. “How was your first day? I didn’t get to see you much.”

“It was fine.” She lied, not finding it in herself to admit the fact that going to school felt wrong without Fuyuhiko just two steps in front of her and deciding that it would be best not to worry him with the missing poster mess. He would most likely just get the police involved, and one of the first things Peko had learned was that you could trust your average cop as far as you could throw them. “How was it for you?”

“Fantastic! Although there were a few small issues...I had to give that friend of yours--Oowada, I’m pretty sure--a detention for running in the halls, but other than that, there were no real issues!” Kiyotaka said, not getting why Peko chuckled. The concept of Mondo Oowada, hardened ex-gangster who showed up to school on a motorcycle, being yelled at by her brother was the funniest thing she had thought of all day. The fact that he escaped the incident without bruises was a borderline miracle. 

“I can’t imagine Mondo was too happy about the situation.” Peko said, a smile briefly playing on her lips. 

“He wasn’t! But rules are rules. Someone could’ve been seriously hurt! The floors were just waxed last week and--” Kiyotaka’s rant on the dangers of running in school hallways was cut short by the sound of the front door being unlocked. A few seconds later, the door to the dining room was opened and Takaaki entered, followed by an old man who looked like him in about twenty years. Peko realized fairly quickly that this must be her grandfather, the infamous ex-Justice. 

“So, this is my granddaughter!” He noted, stepping into the room and staring at Peko, who was now standing and fussing with the hem of her uniform skirt so that she looked like she was doing something. Even without shoes on, Peko was a full two or three inches taller than him and yet she felt that this man was intimidating despite his jovial facade and the fact that she could overpower him easily in a fight. He gave her a hug that Peko didn’t return, causing him to frown. “Not much of a hugger I take it?”

“Not particularly, no.” Peko said, sighing in relief when he let go.

“Takaaki, go get your wife. A proper family dinner is in order.” Toranusuke demanded, and Takaaki was quick to follow that order. Seeing her normally controlling father taking orders brightened Peko’s mood enough that she was able to overlook the horror that would be a proper family dinner. Kiyotaka left the dining room to go grab silverware and before her grandfather could say anything else to her, Peko followed him. Something about Toranusuke made her suspicious of him, but she wasn’t sure exactly what.

Taka grabbed the utensils and Peko silently took the plates and glasses. “Please behave.” Kiyotaka requested, almost dropping a fork. “Grandfather is...I lack the proper words for him, but I’m sure everything will be fine!”

Peko could sense that he was lying, that things were about to get a bit ugly, but she nodded and pretended like his words brought her some comfort. “I’m sure it will be.” She said, beginning to set the table. Their grandfather had already taken a seat at the head of the table and Takaaki and Mrs. Ishimaru (Peko wasn’t sure what she was supposed to call her. Nobody had ever told her) sat on his right, leaving Peko and Kiyotaka to fill in the seats on his left. For a few minutes, all anyone talked about was the food. Peko had to agree, it was good. Not quite as good at Hope’s Peak, but still delicious.

“So,” Toranusuke began, putting down his fork. “How was the first day of school?”

“It was fantastic! Everyone woke up on time and the school was just as…” Peko couldn’t bring herself to fully listen to Kiyotaka’s speech, not exactly caring about the running of a tiny Catholic school when there were two new people to observe. Takaaki looked as bored as always by his son’s speeches, which got on Peko’s nerves, but his mother seemed very invested in the story and would occasionally interrupt with polite questions. Peko decided that she was a good person, since she actually seemed to care about others and she hadn’t caused Kiyotaka any issues. Toranusuke was half-listening and half-planning. 

“And how was it for you? Are you adjusting well?” Toranusuke asked his granddaughter, who was keeping her eyes on her plate.

“It was fine. Most of my teachers seem reasonable and I know some people in most of my classes, too.” Peko answered, not wanting to give too much away. 

“Making friends already, eh? A born socialite!” He laughed heartily, causing Peko to shift in her seat and move her gaze from her plate to her hands, which were folded neatly in her lap. Was her awkwardness that noticeable? Peko knew that her knowledge of social situations was abysmal, but she knew enough to recognize a joke at her own expense.

“Yes. Yes, I am truly quite approachable.” She shot back, not liking the way her voice was a bit too loud at the beginning of her statement and then became a bit too quiet as she ended it. Toranusuke laughed more at that, his face beginning to turn red as he did so.

“Quite approachable indeed!” He got ahold of himself after a few moments. “And who has our little princess been befriending? I know everyone in this town, you know, so don’t try to fuss with ‘Oh, you wouldn’t know them!’”

Peko looked up at him briefly, a frown settling on her normally blank face. How much /did/ he know? She might have to hold a proper interrogation later on, but the dinner table seemed like the wrong place for it. She decided it was best to just list off most of the people she knew, just to make her seem more social and give Toranusuke a what for. “Mostly people from Hope’s Peak. Kyouko Kirigiri, Mondo Oowada, Ibuki Mioda, Mikan Tsumiki, Junko Enoshi--”

“Enoshima?” Takaaki cut in, glaring at Peko. “You’ve befriended Junko Enoshima?”

Peko was entirely confused as to why he seemed upset by this news, but she couldn’t exactly retract the statement now and even if Junko did creep her out a bit, Peko figured she counted as a friend. “...Yes.”

“Drop her. Immediately.” Takaaki demanded, putting down his silverware. Peko fully raised her eyes, glaring at him and sitting up straighter.

“May I inquire as to why?” She asked, her tone sitting exactly between polite and mocking.

There was a pause, which Kiyotaka took it upon himself to fill. “A few years ago, she was accused of murdering her own twin sister and a boy who she was dating at the time. It was a big case. The courts cleared her, but…”

“But it was obvious to anyone with eyes that she did it.” Toranusuke interjected. “That’s not the best connection for our fledgling debutante, now is it? What do you think, Aimi?”

Aimi, which Peko figured was the first name of Mrs. Ishimaru, looked even more uncomfortable than Peko did with being put on the spot. “Well, it was quite the case and it might tarnish the family’s reputation to be tied to it, but I don’t see why they couldn’t at least be acquaintances. It’s hard to avoid someone at a school that small…”

“I still think it’s a bad idea.” Takaaki muttered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I don’t.” Peko said, more surprised than anyone else at the table that she had dared to speak. “She was found innocent, yes? Then she’s innocent, and that’s the end of it. It’s not our place to question the decisions of the courts. I thought you of all people would understand that, Grandfather. So if someone who was wrongly accused of the murder of their own sister wants to be friends with me, I have no right to refuse.”

“Ah, I see, so killers band together. Charming.” Toranusuke said, and before he could say anything else, Peko was standing with her hand on her knife, ready to aim for his throat.

“Grandfather, a-are you accusing Lucy of murder?” Kiyotaka stuttered out, too shocked by the accusation to notice or care about the way Peko clutched the knife, like someone who was used to using it to kill.

“Not accusing, just stating a known fact. She was a hitwoman for the Kuzuryuu family.” That was the comment that earned Toranusuke Ishimaru a knife to his throat. Aimi and Kiyotaka both screamed, the latter actually falling from his chair and scrambled away from his half-sister. Takaaki face didn’t move except for his eyes, which were so wide that they appeared on the verge of popping out of his head.

“Don’t you dare say their name. Don’t you _dare_.” She hissed, pressing the knife closer to his throat. “Now, how did you find out?”

“Mr. Kuzuryuu is an...an old friend of mine. He was telling me that he recently fired a servant girl and when he was telling me about her, I realized the description matched what Takaaki and Taka told me about you. After watching how you behaved for a bit, I figured it out. Just good guesswork.” Toranusuke explained, his voice straining a bit as he tried to keep his throat as far as he could from the knife.

“And the missing posters?” She asked, figuring that he might know something about those, too.

“What posters?” Toranusuke looked genuinely confused, genuine enough that Peko figured he honestly wasn’t behind it.

“I suppose you didn’t do enough research, then.” Peko took away the knife but she refused to let go of it or sit back down. 

“Are you going to explain what posters you mean?” Takaaki chimed in, his voice shaking just enough for her to notice.

“No.” She said. “No, I’m not. But I am going to leave, and not a word of my life before the beginning of July is going to leave this room. Not a single word from any of you. Am I clear?” 

There were nods all around the table and Peko finally let go of the knife. “Good. I sincerely apologize for that small outburst. Old habits die hard. Thank you for the meal, it was nice to meet you, it was nice to see you again, and Taka, I’ll see you tomorrow.” She addressed everyone in the room before leaving, pausing only to put on her shoes. Peko didn’t have much to eat and was still somewhat hungry, but that was alright. Junko went out to eat on Mondays and Peko figured that she wouldn’t mind if she tagged along.


	12. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update for you guys! Also, a warning: I'll once again be participating in NaNoWriMo this year, so starting November, this fic will be on hiatus until I hit 50,000 words on my orginal project, which will be around November 20th. I figured I should mention it now before I forget!

Peko didn’t even have to say what happened when she returned to Hope’s Peak. She just had to sigh and shake her head and Junko _knew_. She knew to take her to the cafe and to let her pick at her food in silence while Junko talked about the people she was friends with and the people that Peko would be seeing a lot of as well. She also spent a good bit of time discussing the musical that Peko would be choreographing and explained exactly how musicals worked at St. Bernadette's. Even though Peko wasn’t exactly listening, she was still able to absorb most of what Junko told her.

It took Peko an hour before she could find it in her to speak. All she could think about was Kiyotaka’s horrified face when she had grabbed the knife and pointed it at their grandfather. Even if he was going to listen to her order of silence, Peko knew that she would always be a murderer in his eyes. She had already lost the only real family she ever had and Peko would be lying if she said she wasn’t upset. She had listened to him enough to know how he felt about any criminals, let alone killers. Even if it was almost always under direct order, Peko knew she would never be forgiven. 

“I think they hate me.” Peko muttered into her coffee after a five minute lull in which Junko took pictures of her and Peko pretended not to notice. “My family, I mean. After tonight, I’m almost certain they hate me.” 

Junko put down her phone and rested her head in her hands. “Hm? Why would they hate you? What’d you do?”

“Something stupid. Something very, very stupid.” Peko admitted, wanting to just leave it at that. But Junko didn’t stop looking at her when she gave no more details. She sat and waited for Peko to answer, fully intent on sitting like that until she clarified. Peko shifted in her seat and stared at the back of her hands, figuring that Junko would grow bored of waiting before she would crack.

“You can tell me anything, you know.” Junko said, taking Peko’s chin in her hands and forcibly tilting it upwards. “I can keep a secret. And how can I trust you to protect me if you won’t trust me? You’d be forcing me to tell Chisa or Monomi and you know that they’d throw you right back to that family that hates you if they thought Hope’s Peak was in danger. They care more about the halfway house and their job security than they do about you. But not me. I want to help you like you promised to help me, Hope’s Peak be damned. We could survive without it. So tell me, Lu-Lu. Please.”

Even with her chin in Junko’s hand, Peko managed to not actually look at her and instead look at a spot just an inch above her head. Just as Peko began to speak, Junko moved her hand away as if rewarding her obedience. “My grandfather did some digging into my past and revealed some...unsavory information about me and my life prior to Hope’s Peak to the rest of my family over dinner. I...Well, I didn’t react well. I put a knife to his throat and accused him of being behind the posters. He wasn’t behind those, by the way. Once I was satisfied with my answers, I told the rest of my family not to speak about any of it and then walked out. And you’ve heard Kiyotaka talk. You know how the Ishimarus handle things like that. My mother has almost certainly been called and I’ll be lucky if I’m not officially disowned by the end of the week.”

Junko gave her a sympathetic glance that was somewhat overdone, but Peko figured that it was just how she communicated. Moderation wasn’t her thing, but Peko didn’t think she was faking it. “Well, yikes. That’s rough. He totally shouldn’t have done that, though! But even if they do disown you, you’ll be okay. You don’t need family. You have me! And I’m better than some hypocritical ol’ _family_.” She seemed to switch personalities halfway through her statement, going from somewhat normal to overly cutesy.

Peko thought her statement over, frowning at a point in the distance. It all felt very fast to her, the progression from uncomfortable acquaintances to practically family, but maybe it was just her perception of things. After all, she had little to no experience with the life of average teenage girls. Maybe this was how it always worked. Her circle hadn’t really expanded beyond what it was in July, and Chisa _did_ say that it would be good to try and make new friends and connect with other people. And who was better to try and befriending than Junko, who was popular and loved and practically offering it to her on a silver platter? Who could know more about how to make friends and how to be a teenage girl? Who else was there to trust anymore? Even though something about it felt wrong to her, Peko nodded and looked at Junko and managed to give her a smile. “Okay.” She said, her voice scarcely above a whisper. “Okay.”

Even if Peko’s response didn’t make technical sense, Junko knew exactly what she meant. She gave her a sincere smile, but not for the reasons of being so happy to support a newfound friend. It was because another part of her plan had fallen into place. Just a few more things and it would be perfect and functioning and totally despairful.

“Come on!” Junko said, getting up and grabbing Peko’s hand. “Let’s go visit Mikan, she probably misses me and REALLY needs to talk to more people. I can help you both socialize! Ah, how great, two of my friends are going to be friends too!” Junko dragged her down the streets of Chicago, practically showing off her new toy to the world. Peko felt uncomfortable that so many people were looking at them, but she could always hide from it all in Junko’s shadow, which stretched behind her and left a dark void in the midst of the dying sunlight. That was where Peko stayed, in that comfortable shadow where all she had to do was protect Junko from any harm. It was as easy as breathing.

***

Kiyotaka was, for once in his life, very lucky. Yes, there had been the unfortunate incident the night before, but now he had an opportunity to discuss it at length with someone who might understand it more than he did. He woke up extra early and entered St. Bernadette’s an hour before school technically started. Being in charge of detention was never much fun, but it was only Oowada this morning and while Kiyotaka was going to ensure it would mostly be a punishment, it couldn’t hurt to ask him for his assistance on the matter of how to proceed with his sister. 

He poured over his calculus homework as he waited for the delinquent to arrive. He finished half of the next day’s problems when Mondo showed up and slunk into a desk in the back row.

“You’re late!” Kiyotaka said, putting down his pencil. “I have to give you another detention. Being late to school would be a minor infraction, but being late to detention--that’s another detention.”

Mondo sighed loudly, cracking his knuckles. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me? I was what, 5 minutes late?”

“9. You were _9_ minutes late.” Kiyotaka corrected, writing out a detention slip. “Same time tomorrow morning, and watch your language! Even if there are currently no teachers present, this is still a school environment ”

“Man, you’re really testing me right now.” Mondo warned, trying to resist the old urge to knock his face in. Just a few months ago, he would’ve beat the shit out of him, but he had to get a hold of his temper. He took a deep breath and sorted through the mess of his book bag to get his own math homework.

There was a semi-comfortable half hour where they both did their homework in silence, where Mondo tried not to fall asleep and pretend that Kiyotaka wasn’t there and Kiyotaka tried to find the right words to ask for what he wanted to know. He debated turning Peko into the police, but he had no actual evidence other than what his grandfather said and nobody trusted him anymore. He lacked the resources to look into it himself, so he would have to let her go free. Plus, something about putting his half-sister in jail struck him as wrong. The thought of her locked in a cage was unbearable, especially when he thought of playing chess on a courtroom floor on a summer afternoon and the calm, intent way she would listen when he spoke and the mountain of books she kept around her bed when she was in the hospital. But there had to be some sort of punishment, didn’t there? She was a _murderer_. Kiyotaka couldn’t just let her move on with her life, happy and content and covered in someone else’s blood. He didn’t know why he thought Mondo would know what to do in this situation, but he had a feeling in his gut that said this delinquent could help him.

While Kiyotaka was going over his miniature life crisis, Mondo was having a math crisis. None of the numbers made any sense to him, but he wasn’t going to ask Taka for help. No way, not when he had just given him another detention. He’d sooner die than ask for his help. Mondo broke three pencils before Kiyotaka got out of his own head and realized that he was having some sort of math problem, and he could certainly solve that. 

Kiyotaka got up and made his way towards the other boy, sitting in the desk across from it. “You’re using the wrong equation.” He said, grabbing a pencil and writing the proper one on the top of the page. “Try it now.”

Mondo glared at him and punched the equation into his calculator, practically breaking the buttons. He ignored Kiyotaka’s lecture on respecting calculators and huffed irritably when the answer actually made sense. “Well, how about this next one?” 

They argued about the homework for a seemingly infinite amount of time, or at least an amount that would be very difficult to graph. The paper was covered in lines by the end of it and both parties were just about ready to kill each other.

“You’re really lucky you’re Pekoyama’s brother, you know? Because if you weren't, you’d be dead by now.” Mondo muttered once they finished the page, shoving his textbook into his bag.

“Um, speaking of Lucy,” He began, taking a sudden interest in his own shoes. “Do you...Do you know what her life was like before?”

Mondo raised an eyebrow and leaned back in his chair, putting his feet up on the desk. Kiyotaka had to fold his hands together to resist the urge to force his feet back on the floor and was making the face of someone who had bit into a lemon when they expected an apple. “Well, I’m not going tell you. I’m not a snitch. If she hasn’t already told you--”

“But she did!” He interrupted, his voice awkwardly loud and cracking slightly on the end of his statement. “Well, not technically. My grandfather found out and told all of us over dinner last night. She didn’t take it well, but she didn’t deny what he said and I just wanted confirmation.”

“And what did that bastard say?” Mondo asked, trying not to imagine what Peko not taking something well would entail. The last time she didn’t take something well, she ended up riddled in bullets and on crutches.

Kiyotaka looked around the room as if he expected someone to descend from the ceiling before whispering his answer. “He said that she was a hitwoman. That she killed people for the Kuzuryuus. But I think he might’ve gotten that wrong. Wasn’t the boy she saved a Kuzuryuu?” 

“He was. And yeah, she was a hitwoman. Back in my gang days, we worked together a bit. You aren’t planning on turning her in, are you? Because I’ve been to juvie, and that’s not a place fit for anyone.” He frowned as he thought of Peko in one of those orange jumpsuits, sitting in the prison yard and looking out on a gray expanse of nothing.

“No. I wouldn’t have much evidence so it would do nothing but cause a scene. But why did she do it? How many people did she kill? I just...I don’t get how she could do it. And she needs to be punished for it somehow. Crimes can’t go unpunished.” Kiyotaka felt himself getting emotional about the situation and squeezed his hands, watching how they turned red and then white from the sheer amount of pressure he was putting on them. 

Mondo felt bad for him for a second, trying to imagine what it would feel like if he lived the sheltered life of Kiyotaka Ishimaru and then discovered that he had a sister who was a killer. “I don’t know how many people she’s killed. Personally, I’ve seen her take out 3 people. As for why...I don’t know. I think she was raised to. Peko never talked about why, but I know that she’s lived with the Kuzuryuus since birth. So she was raised to, but I can tell you that she didn’t like it. She’s suffering enough over it. There’s no need to make it any worse for her.”

“But how can we know? How can we accept that as atonement? What about the families of those she killed? I love her, but I can’t just do _nothing_. That would be weak of me.” Kiyotaka felt the need to find a proper punishment, something that would suit the crime. 

“Weak?” Mondo scoffed, crossing his arms. “You know what’s weak? Being so attached to a fake sense of morality that you can’t help but add to the suffering of your own _sister_. That’s what’s weak.”

“Or being so blinded by sentiment that you can’t reason properly! Does that strike you as an admirable trait?” Kiyotaka felt himself getting more and more upset and he wasn’t sure if he was going to burst into tears of scream.

“There isn’t much to admire about being a stuck-up dick, either.” He said, looking at the clock and noting that detention was almost over.

Kiyotaka didn’t speak for a few seconds and instead focused on calming down and thinking of a proper, rational solution to this conflict. Debate didn’t seem to be getting them anywhere, so there had to be another way. “Meet me after school at the soccer field. 3:00. The only way to sort out who is really stronger is a competition of endurance, physical and mental.” He put out his hand and waited for his response.

“Fine. You’re on, fucker.” Mondo took his hand and shook it, both of them squeezing just a bit too hard for it to be a proper, polite handshake. The bell rang just seconds afterwards and Kiyotaka was quick to gather his things and head for the door.

“If you see Peko today, you better treat her like a goddamn princess or I swear to god, I’ll beat your ass into the ground.” Mondo warned, picking at his fingers and not even bothering to look at Kiyotaka as he spoke. “I swear to god, I really will.”

***

Peko wasn’t sure exactly how it happened, but somehow she had ended up serving as the referee for the weirdest soccer match she had ever seen. She played soccer for a while and had been pretty good at it, but she hadn’t bothered to join St. Bernadette’s team, considering she would’ve missed nearly all of the pre-season training and she didn’t feel like getting out of bed for most of the summer. She was voted most likely to be a proper referee, so she watched them kick the ball back and forth while Junko forced Peko’s head into her lap and talked about the musical, with Ibuki and Mikan making occasional comments. 

“So auditions are next week and like, there’s gonna be a part for choreography because it’s _Hairspray_ , the dancing skills are almost more important than the singing. Of course you’ll be in charge of it, but I have a few--”

“What the fuck?! That was the worst fake out I’ve ever _seen_ , I sure as hell hope--”

“Oooooh, Ibuki thinks Komaru would be good in that role! She’s a great--”

“Oowada, that move certainly isn’t--”

“B-but what if he gets injured? We wouldn’t have--”

“And of course, you’d have to teach them how to--”

Peko couldn’t keep track of any of the conversations, but she made an effort to at least decipher what Junko was saying, if only because every time Peko appeared to be spacing out, she would dig her nails into her scalp. But every time Peko gave a response that Junko deemed proper, she would be rewarded with a soft hand through her hair and a quiet laugh. More than she wanted either of those things, Peko wanted to be left alone, but that wasn’t happening. She still couldn’t look Kiyotaka in the eye and he was making a point of not looking at her, either. It bothered her immensely, and she swore to apologize to him as soon as the game was over.

Except it seemed to never be over. Afternoon turned to evening which then turned to night, and they were still fighting like cats and dogs and Junko was talking about how ridiculous they were and how awful of them it was to make Peko referee and then ignore her. At first, Peko resisted those comments, but as the night went on, they seemed to make more sense. 

Finally, it ended. Peko sat up, fingernails in her scalp be damned, in order to see them laughing and using the word “bro” more times than any human should within one sentence. Somewhere between the afternoon heat and the undoing of their uniform ties and the story Mondo told about that time during a clean-up for a murder, Peko had fallen asleep and nearly been buried alive because they mistook her for a corpse and she hadn’t bothered to correct them even though she must’ve woken up when they dropped her into the grave, they found common ground. Mondo could respect Taka and how feverishly he wanted to make the world right, how hard working and determined and obliviously beautiful he was when he was running and laughing and glancing at the sidelines. And Kiyotaka could admire his stubbornness, his insistence on protecting people he cared about in the only way he knew how and his constant questioning of things that just weren’t right. He especially admired the strange way that Mondo would look at him while they played soccer, a mixture of intensity and admiration and amusement that made his heart race in a way that Taka didn’t quite understand. 

“God, can’t they just make out already?” Junko asked, leaning over Peko’s shoulder to look at them. 

“They probably won't. At least for awhile.” Peko said, sighing as they approached.

“Lucy!” Kiyotaka called out, waving as he ran over to the pair. Ibuki and Mikan had left a while ago to go to group therapy, but Junko talked Peko into skipping with her by making up a fantastic tale about Chisa disapproving of Junko’s new friendship with Peko.

Peko didn’t actually say anything, she just looked at him and silently urged him to continue. “Our conflict has been solved!” He exclaimed, chuckling and looking over at Mondo.

“Really?” She said, raising an eyebrow and trying to seem relatively normal.

“Yup. Soccer fixes everything. Right, bro?” Mondo said, slinging an arm over Taka’s shoulder.

“Indeed! Conflict resolution via athletics is an ancient yet effective concept! It helps build stronger bonds between men, bro!” Kiyotaka was practically bouncing from excitement, which was so sweet and silly that Peko couldn’t help but smile up at him from her spot on the ground. 

“I’m glad it was all worked out.” She said, getting up and checking her phone. “We might want to get going, though. Curfew is in 4...Well, now it’s 3 minutes.” 

“Shit! My motorcycle’s still in the parking lot. See you in detention tomorrow, Taka. I’ll swing it around here and you can hop on. Junko…”

“I’ll grab a taxi!” She said, taking off her heels and putting them in her bookbag. Mondo and Junko both ran off, each heading in different directions. That left Peko and Kiyotaka by themselves, standing in the middle of the soccer field.

“I’m sorry.” She said suddenly, fixing her eyes on a point just an inch above her brother’s head. “About yesterday. About everything. You deserve a better sister. Really, you do.”

Kiyotaka wasn’t sure exactly what to do in this situation, but he felt that hugging was most likely the proper answer, so he clumsily wrapped his arms around her, trying not to wince when her forehead accidentally crashed into his nose. “It’s alright. You are a good sister! You just did some very bad things. There is no choice but to move forwards and be a better person than you were before!”

“I wasn’t even a person before. I’m not entirely sure if I’m one now, either.” She admitted, causing him to let go and look at her in confusion. “I was raised to be nothing but a tool, an extension of my master’s will. That’s all.”

“No, that’s wrong!” Kiyotaka shook his head, refusing to believe that his own sister wasn’t a human. “You were always a person! You _are_ a person! You just didn't realize it until now!”

Mondo pulled up on his motorcycle and Peko head towards it, waving at her brother before hopping on and heading towards Hope’s Peak. They ended up being ten seconds late, but it was close enough that Monomi didn’t punish them for it. Peko figured she would be punished for skipping group in the morning, but that was tomorrow's problem.

Junko arrived two hours late, holding four posters in her hand and smirking, not giving a damn about the trouble she would get in for that. Because she had found two posters of Peko, one exactly like the one she had seen in her room and the other with what clearly was a different phone number that belonged to a Juzo Sakakura. The other two were of Komaeda, one with Juzo’s name and number and the other with what was most likely the original one, Sonosuke Izayoi. She took out her cellphone, sat on her bed, and punched in the numbers. It was time to cause some chaos.


	13. According To Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One day, I promise I'll actually update on a Thursday, but not today. I'm going to try and see if I can get another chapter out before November, but if this ends up being the last chapter until late November, know that I am so, so, sorry. So sorry. Please don't murder me and enjoy this chapter!

As September dragged on, Junko threw her whole self into everything to do with her grand plan. She had until Christmas Eve to make everything for her plan perfect, and even if the posters added an extra layer of nonsense, it was amazingly fun for her. Every time she would get stressed, Junko would just steal someone’s phone and call either Izayoi or Sakakura and mess with them. The information she gave was increasingly ridiculous and it got to the point that Junko could barely keep a straight face around the posters because she would think of the time Izayoi seemed to seriously think that Peko literally ran away to join a circus in Moscow. Every week, 20 or so of them would end up in Peko’s room at Hope’s Peak and in the room she stayed at when she went to her mother’s. On those, the numbers were crossed out, but Junko had seen them enough to know which poster matched which number.

Eventually, she decided to research them. Peko, despite how much she trusted Junko, flat out refused to give up any information about her past, and those people definitely knew about her. She had tried to ask about her life the first time she called Izayoi, but he had been useless and vague and all-around frustrating. But she managed to find out a lot about him. He was 20 years old and hopeless in love with Ruruka Ando, knives, and running. It wasn’t much fun to manipulate him. He was too jaded to corrupt and too pure to assist her in any way. Izayoi was in the perfect spot to be absolutely useless to her. 

But manipulating Juzo Sakakura...Now _that_ was fun. He was ex-mafia, in the middle of the world’s funniest love triangle, world-renowned boxer, security guard for two spoiled brats, and he looked distantly like the older brother of a girl she made out with at a party once. Junko made a note to ask Sato about him if they ever saw each other again. It was so easy to get Juzo pissed and his reactions were hysterical. She could practically see the ridiculous expressions on his face whenever he spoke. Junko realized fairly quickly that he was a missing piece in her plan, that he could be immensely helpful to her if things turned out properly, so she did what any curious teenage girl would do: she followed him. Eventually, that led her to following Munakata, who was even funnier.

One day, towards the end of September, Juzo caught her. It was freezing cold and pitch black and Juzo had his fist in her face before Junko could even process what had just happened.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but if you keep following Munakata, I swear that I’ll beat you to death.” He threatened, practically strangling Junko with her own scarf.

“Is that a threat or a promise?” She asked, grinning up at him despite the fact that she was losing oxygen. “Because if it’s a promise, I’ll kill Munakata right now instead of later.”

Juzo slammed her head into the alley wall, causing Junko to nearly pass out. “Don't even fucking think about touching Munakata. Chisa told me not to harm you Hope’s Peak kids, but if you even so much as bump into him, it’ll be the last thing you ever do, I swear.”

Junko smirked, standing up on shaking legs and using the wall to balance herself. “So you already knew about me, eh? Which means you know where dear little Lucy is, don’t you? So why haven’t you told your friends? I don’t know much about them yet, but I doubt they would be happy to know that you’re known where she is the whole time.”

Juzo grit his teeth, mostly to keep himself from yelling at her. If anyone heard and found them like this, he would be in jail within the minute. “Complications of the job.” He said slowly, each word sounding like it caused him physical pain to say.

“Oh, so the parents of those brats you’re protecting told you to keep your mouth shut. _Interesting_. But what happens if they find out on their own?” She asked, clinging onto his arm for balance and digging her nails into his skin. Junko wondered if she would draw blood.

“Nothing. They find her and I have nothing to do with it. Now are you leaving Munakata alone, or what?” Juzo demanded, moving her hand away and crossing his arms.

“Possibly. I have...I have a _proposition_ for you.” Junko nearly found herself forgetting the word, but she caught herself quickly. “Not only will I leave Munakata alone, but I’ll lead those two kids--Fuyuhiko and Natsumi, right?--I’ll lead them right to Lucy, in my own time. In exchange, you need to keep Chisa off my back. Whatever you have to do, do it. And if you don’t want to…” Junko gave Sakakura her brightest nice girl smile and held his hands. “If you don’t, well I’ll just kill him. Sound like a deal?’

“Deal. Now get lost, bitch.” Juzo shoved Junko away and kept walking, keeping his head down and his hands in his pockets. It took all his self-restraint to not go back there and beat that blonde to death, but he kept it all in until he returned to the tiny guest house he called home. He put six holes in the wall that night and ended up finding a tiny note addressed to Peko Pekoyama in a drawer he had nearly demolished. It said _Happy birthday_ in handwriting he recognized as Fuyuhiko’s. On the back of it, he wrote _I hope you like the ribbons. If not, I can take them back_. Sakakura had a feeling that the ribbons in question were the white ones he spotted in Fuyuhiko’s pocket or Natsumi’s hair on occasion. He figured that Peko didn’t have time to take them before she got fired and he felt a surge of sympathy towards a girl he had never seen. Juzo knew that there was no chance for him and Munakata, but maybe there was hope for her. 

***

Peko sat in the front row of the auditorium, frowning at her classmates dancing on stage. Practically all of their rehearsals for the past three days had been on the choreography for just one song and even if it wasn’t to her liking, it was definitely improved.

“Good.” She praised as the last note of the song rang through the auditorium. Even if her face was still stern, there was a hint of pride in her voice. “From the top two more times, and then a break. I promise.”

Peko listened to the groans from the cast, who were complaining about everything from biology homework to the stupidity of 50’s dance moves to the fact that Peko was something of a choreography drill sergeant. The overly-cheerful and amazingly cheesy vocals of “The Nicest Kids In Town” were clearly audible, even if all the actors looked out of breath. Peko cringed a few times whenever she noticed small mistakes, things that she knew fussing about now wouldn’t help, but they bothered her anyhow. Junko loudly whispered in Peko’s ear about who she thought was totally hopeless when it came to dancing and who had just messed up, which only served to intimidate those on stage.

“Don’t stop.” She told Kiyotaka, who had paused and looked almost on the verge of tears when he heard Junko say that he might as well leave now. He continued instantly, keeping his eyes away from the duo. Peko wasn’t dumb enough to openly glare at Junko, but a disapproving look crossed her face and it didn’t escape Junko’s notice.

The second run-through was more to Peko’s liking and a ghost of a proper smile actually crossed her face when she noticed that everyone spun in the directions she had told them to. When the song ended, the cast practically seemed to deflate as they scrambled to their break spots. Junko was quick to leave Peko’s side to say something to Hiyoko and Mikan, which allowed her time to go to the back left corner, which was also occupied by Ibuki and Naegi.

“Pekoooooooo!” Ibuki greeted, waving and practically pulling Peko to the floor. “Do you think we looked any better?!”

She thought about it for a minute, shaking her head when Naegi offered her some water. He looked like he needed it more than she did. “I’d say so, yes. There were a few minor things that need to be fixed, but I think a break was needed.”

“Good call!” Naegi said, laying down on the floor. “I think one more run through would’ve killed me.”

“I doubt you’re alone in that sentiment.” Peko rummaged through her pockets and pulled out two of the few candies from Ando’s that had made their way into her suitcase and gave one to Ibuki and one to Makoto.

“Ooooh, where’d you get these?” Ibuki asked as she ate hers. “They’re delicious!”

“They were a gift.” Peko lied easily, not wanting to accidentally send Ibuki to Ando’s and risk her running into Ruruka and mentioning Peko at all. She had bought them a few months ago and they had stayed in the pocket of the jeans she wore on that last day working for the Kuzuryuus until the week before when she noticed them and the fact that they were still good. 

“From?” She pried, pouting when Peko didn’t answer. “Come on, tell us! I mean, you know all about me and my music and my middle school scene phase and all about Naegi and his detective stuff and his _massive_ crush on Kiri, and all we know about you is that you’re a dancing ninja mom friend. Who gives you presents? Because I need to thank them, it’s not often that someone appreciates awesome in the same way I do.”

She internally panicked for a bit, trying to think of a name before just going with what was the closest to the truth. “A childhood friend of mine.” Peko admitted, feeling somewhat shy and yet eager to talk about Fuyuhiko. Every day, she missed him and thought about him as if he was a pebble perpetually stuck in her shoe or a light in her peripheral vision that she could never find the source of and she has scarcely mentioned him since the incident with Komaeda back in July.

“That’s nice.” Naegi smiled softly at her, smiling when he ate the candy. “Your friend has good tastes.”

“Mhmm!” Ibuki agreed, putting her head in her hands. “You should tell us more about them.”

Peko thought about what she should do, if it was better to lie or tell the truth, but Ibuki looked so excited to get a tiny glimpse into Peko’s life before they met and Naegi was giving her the same hopeful, patient glance he gave to everyone that always managed to make the person it was directed at feel obligated to talk. He could’ve been a hell of an interrogator, or at least Peko thought so. “He’s...He’s something. I haven’t seen him in a few months, but I used to see him every day. He was the sort of person--or maybe is still the sort of person, I don’t know how he’s changed since then--but he’s the sort of person who seems very gruff and rude and mean on the outside, but he’s honestly very kind and caring. He was just trying to keep up a tough look. Whenever we used to go get candy, he would always make sure that nobody saw us enter because he didn’t want to seem uncool. He asked a lot about my opinions, even when they didn’t matter. He could never reach things on the top shelf, but he would never ask for someone to get them for him. He’d just climb on whatever was available and get it himself, or I would guess what it was that he wanted and ‘accidentally’ knock it off. One time, when we were both about eight, he was going to a wedding and he wasn’t sure what exactly it was, so he asked his mother. She told him that people got married because they wanted to always be with their favorite person, so he proposed to me with a Ring Pop and some flowers that grew in the garden by his house. I accepted because I figured that was how it worked. It was stupid and childish, but at the time, it was very fun.”

As Peko spoke, Naegi and Ibuki watched the way her face lit up with a gentle smile and the way she looked slightly beyond them, as if expecting him to appear before her very eyes. It took Ibuki less than five seconds to determine that Peko was absolutely smitten and that her new ultimate goal was to get them together. She was already thinking of who she could recruit to help her with her grand plan and how she was going to get it all to work out when Peko finally stopped talking.

“So romantic!” Ibuki faked a dramatic swoon, her head landing right into Peko’s lap. “Where’s he now?”

Peko shook her head, not wanting to have to tell her that there was no chance of seeing him, not when it could get him killed if his parents saw it fit and that Peko didn’t think it was worth hurting him to fulfil her own selfish desire to see him again. “I can’t say.”

“Can’t? EH!? Why can’t you?” Ibuki pouted, unable to not be distressed by this news. There had to be a way! True love would prevail! Wouldn’t it?

“If I was to say, you would go and find him, and that can’t happen. He would be in danger.” Peko whispered, deciding to go with the truth because it was the only thing that made sense and she figured that they deserved to know the hopeless reality of the situation.

“Well, then we’ll have to find a safe way, or we’ll have to wait until it all gets fixed.” Naegi suggested, taking a drink from his water bottle. “But don’t give up hope! For a friendship like that, there’s always a way. I’ll help any way I can!”

“I can help, too!” Ibuki declared, sitting back up. “If he’s half as cool as you say he is, I bet he hasn’t given up on trying to be with you.”

Peko tried to refute it, tried to suppress the dumb bit of hope she felt rising in her chest, but it occurred to her that Fuyuhiko wouldn’t have given up, at least not without a hell of a fight, especially since he knew that she was close by. She put aside her own feelings of worthlessness and the questionability of her status as a person and remembered that Fuyuhiko had always thought of her as a person, and a valuable one at that. Peko could never understand it, but he seemed to think she was someone worth keeping around, and that fact added to what she knew about him from spending fifteen years near him lead her to the seemingly obvious conclusion that he was looking for her, that he very well could be plastering Chicago with pictures of her face along with whoever he could get to help. It all made sense and she had the urge to stand up and run back to Hope’s Peak and examine those posters all over, looking for hints and traces of Fuyuhiko. It was reckless and stupid of him, but it was so quintessentially Fuyuhiko that there was barely a doubt left in Peko’s mind that he was the one putting the posters up. She didn’t know who was putting them in her room, but now it was clear that the original search for her was done with good intentions. “If he got hurt, I could never forgive myself, but if it all worked out…” Just to see him again would be enough, but Peko wanted more. She wanted to hold him close and kiss him a thousand times and make sure that everything was still okay and go back to how things were before, when they could talk without saying a word. It was then that Peko realized that she still loved Fuyuhiko with her whole heart, that she had loved him for as long as she could remember, and that it was highly unlikely she would ever stop. 

Junko listened in on their conversation, carefully hiding the worry that was beginning to creep up on her. Peko finding Fuyuhiko could put a hole in her plan. And Junko wanted to be in control of how they met again. She already worked it into her grand plan, and she couldn’t have Naegi messing that up. Junko knew needed to stop it, and she needed to do it _now_.

“It wouldn’t.” Junko declared, sitting down between Peko and Naegi. “Work out, that is. If it’s so dangerous that you won’t even tell me about it, it must truly be awful. And if he really was still looking for you, wouldn’t he have found you by now? Wouldn’t he at least have been able to get you a message? It’s not hard to figure out that you would be here, ya know. He might just be dumb, but I don’t think you’d like him this much if he was so clueless and it’s only natural to move on. How long has it been since you’ve seen him? 3 months? 4? God, Peko, you aren’t the center of the universe. He has a life outside of you.”

This sudden speech caught the three of them so off guard that they just stared for a moment, trying to figure out how long she had been listening. “I-I know.” Peko stuttered out, surprised to notice that she was actually flustered enough to stutter.

“Then start acting like it! Besides, you’ve got me now, and I’m a better friend than he was. If he was really your friend, then he wouldn’t have let all these bad things happen to you, would he?” Before Peko could answer, Junko answered for her. “He wouldn’t! Now come on, break’s over!”

The cast groaned and everyone got up and migrated towards the stage. As Peko was halfway to her normal spot, Naegi was able to catch up with her. “What’s his name?” He asked.

“Fuyuhiko.” She whispered back, a hint of that hopeful smile returning. “His name is Fuyuhiko.”

***  
Rehearsal ended and Peko wandered out, trying to figure out whether Naegi and Ibuki or Junko were right about Fuyuhiko missing her and wanting to look for her. Junko knew more about the specific situation, but Naegi seemed more knowledgeable about human nature in general. Her head was spinning, half filled with dance steps and half filled with thoughts of Fuyuhiko. He had always liked watching her dance in the same way he liked watching her practice with her sword. There would always be subtle compliments and a look of awe on her face, even when Peko did something simple. She couldn’t imagine him losing that look over just a few months, but the more she thought about it, the more it seemed possible. Time could take away little memories like that, and even thinking there was a chance Fuyuhiko could be as attached to her as she was to him was selfish, and she wasn’t allowed to be selfish. The only thing that stopped her worries was Elsie, who curled up at her feet and slept peacefully with a tiny stuffed sword in her mouth.

Just one floor down, Mikan was screaming. She was in Junko’s room and had opened her book bag to find the math notes and instead found something else, something horrible. She held the god forsaken notebook in her hands and flipped through it, still screaming.

Junko emerged from the bathroom, half undressed with her pigtails hanging limp on her head, and immediately wrapped the now-sobbing Mikan in a suffocating hug.

“Shhhhh, shhhh, I’ll explain it all to you, you just need to calm down.” Junko whispered, gently rocking the shaking nurse back and forth.

“W-why wo-o-o-uld you do thaaaaaat?” Mikan sobbed, too afraid to push her away and too in love with her to do anything but sit there.

“Because it’s the only way.” Junko said, smoothing out her hair and listening as the sobs turned into hiccups. “It’s the only way I can find out who’s really worthy of me, who really loves me. You love me, right, Mikan?”

“Of course!” She exclaimed, not even thinking about it. When the world had been cruel to Mikan, when her parents hit her and the kids at school bullied her and she was miserable, Junko picked her up and held her close and told her that it was love. And if this was the only way, who was Mikan to question it? To question Junko was practically sacrilegious.

“So you’ll help me, won’t you?” Junko asked, letting go of Mikan, who nodded enthusiastically through the tears in her eyes. “Great! Now we’ve officially entered Phase 2!” She opened the notebook and began to cross things out and scribble frantically. As Junko talked about Mikan’s role and who she needed to recruit and exactly what she needed to do to make Junko love her, the handwriting on the front of the journal became less intimidating and horrifying. It would be fun, it would be exciting, it would be a test and if Mikan passed, the reward was love. It would be worth it because Junko said it was worth it and Junko was never wrong, not ever. There was nothing to fear from it, not really, and it was almost cute with little bears drawn on the front and swirls underlining the words. As she fell asleep that night, the words played over and over in Mikan’s head, making her sob and laugh at the same time.

_Junko Enoshima’s Plan for the Mutual Killing of Everyone at Hope’s Peak Halfway House!_


	14. A Mystery, Solved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who's baaaaaaaaaaack?! I wrote 50k in 12 days which was insane, but I still have 30k until I reach my personal goal. I think I'll reach that and now that I technically finished, semi-regular updates have returned! I hope you like this chapter and tell me what you think! Thanks for reading :)

September bled into early October and on that first Sunday, Peko Pekoyama decided that it was time to find out who the hell was putting those posters in her room. If it was someone in Hope’s Peak, they would know if she feigned being sick and stayed there, so faking illness was out because then they just wouldn’t do it. Skipping school got a punishment of one week with no phone, a formal explanation as to why you skipped, and even more therapy, and after what Junko told her about Chisa, Peko wanted to avoid that. She decided that her best shot was to go to school, show up for attendance so that in the record she would be marked as officially being there, and then escape, sneak back into Hope’s Peak with her sword, and wait in the bathroom until the person entered. Then she could interrogate them and figure out what she wanted to know. It was a risky plan, but it was worth it to find out who this person was. Even if the person who was putting up the posters might have been well-intentioned, the person putting them in her room almost certainly didn’t.

When Monday morning came around, she got ready like she always did. Peko slipped into her uniform and at the insistence of Junko, she left her hair down and let it flow out behind her. She put on her shoes and by all standards seemed perfectly normal. She just had to trust that nobody would put the pieces together at school and rat on her. It was a risk, but one that she had to take in order to find out the answers. Hopefully they would all remember the various times she kept her mouth shut for them and return the favor. The only issue was that she wouldn’t be at practice for the musical, but they would survive without her. Junko knew the choreography and could take it over for one day without the actual apocalypse occurring, and certainly Junko wanted to know just as much as she did who was behind those posters. Every Monday, Junko asked about them, although the last time it had been with a cheeky smile that confused Peko to the core, but she didn’t ask about it. Junko was odd like that sometimes. She just had to accept it. 

Peko walked to school with Junko, Mikan, Ibuki, Komaeda, Hajime, and Chiaki. She participated in the conversation Junko and Ibuki had about going around with a petition to officially shorten the uniform skirts, found a few comments to make about the game Hajime and Chiaki were discussing as they subtly held hands, and even managed to listen to Komaeda talk to Mikan about hope without the urge to harm him. She was so definitely there that they would probably figure that she just went home sick when they didn’t see her, and it was strange to be as talkative as she was on that day. Hajime seemed to notice that she was up to something, but she sent him a pleading look and he nodded in understanding that whatever she was up to wasn’t bad, that she just needed to go through with it and needed him to not ask any questions about it. 

Homeroom was hell and Peko couldn’t help but think that maybe the person was there right now, going through the motions of plastering her room with missing posters of her face as she sat there, useless and bored as the teacher took attendance. When the bell rang to take them to their first class, Peko quietly slipped into one of the classrooms that was unused, hid until the security guard passed her, and all but sprinted for the door. She managed to escape the school and into the city streets, earning herself a few odd looks from adults passing outside who figured that she was almost certainly skipping and thus up to something. But they couldn’t exactly sell her out, they didn’t even _know_ her. She walked the other way, being careful to hide the school crest with her bookbag until she decided to call a taxi to take her one block past Hope’s Peak.

The cab driver looked far too awake and drove like a maniac, but he did the job and got her to her location. Just before he got out of the cab, he actually addressed her. “Shouldn’t you be in school?” He asked, looking shockingly serious and concerned for her. Peko would’ve been taken aback if she wasn’t so focused on her mission.

“Probably.” She told him, leaving a tip that was maybe a little bit much just because he bothered to be worried.

Going through the door of Hope’s Peak was impossible, but luckily, Peko had planned around that. Monaca Towa always left the window to her bedroom open and she was on the second floor, so all Peko had to do was climb in without being seen, go up to her room without being seen, and hide in her bathroom until that person managed to get in as well and then it was simple. 

The first part, getting into Monaca Towa’s window, was a bit harder than one might originally think. There was the problem of making sure no one was passing through the alley at that exact moment, the issue of remaining unseen by the three security cameras, and how the hell she was going to actually get through the window. It was a small one that she left open, barely big enough to fit a hand through. Peko was still thin, but not as thin as she had been on the days right before and after her admittance to the hospital. She believed that it was worth a shot, though, so she climbed up as soon as she could and with some maneuvering and almost flashing any passersby there might be at that moment, she landed in Monaca’s room with all of her limbs intact. 

Next there was getting to her own room. She had no way of knowing exactly who passed through which hallway when, so she just had to hope that some of Komaeda’s improbably luck rubbed off on her. In this case, it did, and she was able to enter her room without running into anyone. Peko was relieved to see that her room hadn’t been covered in posters yet and nearly sighed, but that would be foolish and possibly give her away. Elsie seemed more than happy at her return and stretched out before nudging Peko’s leg with her head and asking to be petted. Peko was more than happy to oblige for a few seconds before getting back to buisness. She grabbed her bamboo sword from underneath her bed and sat in the bathroom, waiting patiently for their arrival with Elsie in her lap.

Hours passed by even slower than she could have possibly imagined. Peko’s phone became flooded with text messages, none of which she responded to. Most of them were from Junko, who was going between making jokes about where she might be, being offended that she wasn’t invited along, and being worried for her safety. The whiplash was hard to keep up with and was more draining than Peko could’ve imagined, so she sent a vague _I’ll explain it all later but I have to go_ after about an hour of back and forth and then shut off her phone. Sometimes it was better not to know what Junko was up to. Afterwards, she’d have to clean up the mess, but there were more important things at play. 

Finally, after what felt like years but was in all reality only three hours, she heard someone open the door to her room. Peko laid down on the floor and observed them through the crack between the door and the floor. Once she could see that their back was turned, she silently opened the door and smacked the, with her shinai as hard as she could, aiming (and hitting) the spot where their neck meet their shoulder. When the intruder looked ready to cry out in pain, Peko pressed her hand over their mouth, suplexed them into the ground, and stepped on their chest to keep them from getting up. The face looking up at her seemed somewhat familiar and Peko frowned, trying to place them. Elsie sniffed them and seemed pleased with their presence, which she showed by going through their purse until she unearthed cat treats. Peko noticed the fact that the hair was a wig and knocked it off, revealing shoulder-length ink black hair, and then it fell into place.

“Alyosha?” She said incredulously, not able to believe what she was looking at.

“Mhmmm.” He confirmed, sounding like he was in an immense amount of agony. Peko knew that he probably wasn’t dangerous and that he probably didn’t have any weapons, but she kept him there anyways. As she observed the get-up closer, she almost laughed. He was dressed exactly like Monomi, right down to the frilly pink pantsuit. But she was still a bit peeved at him for way back in June, when she had needed a place and he was the only person she could call and he turned her down. Sure, she never would’ve realized she was a person, but life as a tool had been so much easier and he had ruined her chance to go back to that and part of her wanted vengeance.

“Get up.” She demanded, lifting her foot from his chest so that he could do so. Peko patted him down and pulled a gun from the inner pocket of the coat and kept her sword pointed at his throat as she peered into the chamber. Fully loaded. Peko tucked it into the waist of her uniform skirt, making it clear that she wasn’t here to fuck around. That was the only weapon recovered. The person she knew as Alyosha was silent throughout the whole process because he understood that there was no getting through to Peko until she knew that it was perfectly safe, and whatever she needed to do to ensure that, he would endure. 

She opened the neon pink purse he had with him and uncovered all of the posters, each with the names and numbers blacked out. She was able to uncover two that had yet to be scribbled on. Peko saw the names on them and nearly dropped the papers, but she kept up her stoic mask. “Sit.” She gestured to the edge of her bed with the sword and Alyosha sat there, watching her grip the papers with her free hand like her life depended on them. She pulled up the chair from her desk and sat across from him, giving a glare so fierce that he almost cringed, but he managed to look nonplussed by her expression. Elsie snuggled at her owner’s feet and started to take a nap, which was so cute that Peko almost got sidetracked by the need to pet her, but she refocused herself quickly. 

“I suppose you want an explanation?” He assumed, raising an eyebrow as he prepared himself to tell the truth of everything, something he was radically unused to doing and yet would have to do if he didn’t want to end up with a sword sticking out of his throat. He was already aching enough without having to add more pain to his situation and lying to Peko just felt like a bad idea, so he would tell the truth. It was the best decision in the end.

“A safe assumption.” She noted dryly, not pointing her sword or her gun directly at him but keeping them close enough that Alyosha could feel the pressure of one wrong move and it would all be over for him.

“Well, when you first called me, I was getting out of a bad situation. Some...unsavory characters were after me. I took some acting lessons, faked having a breakdown, and once I was safe, I actually did have one. I was in a hospital in Alabama for two weeks, got out, found myself some money and a place to stay, and then started looking for you. I didn’t know whether or not you still needed a place to stay and I figured that if you did, I could finally help. I can’t explain how sorry I am to have failed you when you needed me, but I wanted to make it up to you. I started searching Chicago for you and I lead things back to here. I figured it was all fine, you were in a safe place, but then those posters started popping up. I wasn’t able to find anything on Sonosuke Izayoi, but what I found on Juzo Sakakura was less than savory. I wanted to warn you about it, but I also had to make sure you understood how serious the situation was. I would’ve directly approached you, but I doubted that you wanted to see me since you already had a place to stay. So I blacked out the names and started covering your room with them. I was hoping that you would then leave and that I could help you safely disappear. But you didn’t. And now we’re here and I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused you. Believe me when I say I only did it out of goodness, that I was only trying to help you.” Alyosha ducked his head as he spoke and Peko listened carefully, trying to look for a lie in his words, in his expression, in the way he sat, but she came up with nothing but the truth. Against her expectations, his intentions were good.

“I forgive you.” She said, hardly able to believe that the words were leaving her lips. But they were, and she did forgive him. Peko could understand doing reckless and odd things in the face of danger. She understood where he was coming from and she could forgive him. “But I know them. Or at least one of them. Izayoi’s been friends with me for years. His girlfriend’s family owns Ando’s Cakes and Confections. I don’t think he’s capable of having ill will towards anyone, unless that person somehow upsets Ruruka. As for Sakakura….I know he works for the Kuzuryuus now. I don’t know his intentions, but I can find them out. Or more specifically, you can.” Relying on others was a mostly new experience for Peko, but if he was looking for her, he would know if she was following him. “If you would like to, that is.”

“I would love to help.” He said, his face lighting up because he had been forgiven and Peko was almost certainly safe now. “What do you need me to do?”

“First, I need to borrow your phone. I don’t think it’s a good idea to have the numbers attached to my phone since it’s about to be taken away. Punishment for skipping school. I’m going to call both of them now. Then, if you can, I need you to start tailing Juzo Sakakura. I can give you the address to the Kuzuryuu place, that’s a good place to start. Switch up disguises if you can, I’ve heard that he’s very observant. Once you’ve figured out if he’s dangerous or not, let me know. I’m almost always here. And in return...Well, what would you like?” Peko started planning things in her head, figuring out what she was going to say to Izayoi and Juzo. Contact with the Kuzuryuus was forbidden, but maybe one of them could just say that they knew she was alright and that despite it all, she still loved them. She knew that she ought to not love the parents, but they had given her a life when she had nothing. They had treated her horribly and left her homeless and ground her into nothing and Peko didn’t want to love them, but she did. Fuyuhiko and Natsumi were a different story. They had never been cruel to her, not beyond what was the normal range of childhood incidents, and they had been the only people to acknowledge her status as a person. Natsumi forgot sometimes, but not Fuyuhiko. He always remembered, always treated her like she was somebody important, and Peko wondered if maybe he had loved her, too. But that was preposterous. He only saw her as a friend, that was the only way he would ever see her, but that was enough for her.

“Nothing. I owe you.” He said, grabbing the purse and handing her his phone. “You can keep it if you would like. It’s a burner and I’ve been meaning to grab a new one. I’m glad to see that you’re safe, Pekoyama. I’m happier than you could ever know.” He got up to leave and suddenly Peko thought of the most important question, the one that seemed so obvious to ask but had been forgotten in the midst of posters and numbers and guns that he didn’t want back.

“What’s your name?” She asked and the person she knew as Alyosha turned around and shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’ve never had one. But I think it’s better for me not to know. That way, I can pick a good one for myself or decide to keep an old one. Alyosha’s been growing on me recently, but I haven’t picked yet. Until then, call me whatever you wish.” He gave her a smile and Peko was able to almost return it before he left the room, leaving the door slightly open as per Hope’s Peak policy.

Peko once again locked herself in the bathroom, turning on her phone to see a slew of messages from various people and--oh god, _how_ many missed calls was that rom Kiyotaka?--but she had to ignore them for now. The only one that caught her eye was a threatening one from Junko that said she would call Chisa in ten minutes if she didn’t explain right then. Peko debated texting her back, but she decided against it. Junko would probably call her anyways and there were more important calls to make. She picked up Alyosha’s burner and the poster with her own stoic face staring out and slowly dialed the first number, pausing to make sure she entered in each digit properly as Elsie stared at her with wide, patient eyes. Even she seemed to know that something was at play.

***

Sonosuke Izayoi was in the middle of a very nice makeout session with his very nice girlfriend when his phone rang. For the past few months, he dropped everything the moment he got a call, which was both endearing and annoying to Ruruka. Most of the calls he got were somewhat useless, but they confirmed that Peko was still somewhere in Chicago city limits, which was something of a comfort. Izayoi felt around for his phone and Ruruka watched, pulling a piece of candy from her pocket and beginning to nibble on it. 

The number wasn’t one he recognized, and new numbers meant new leads so he was fast to answer. “Hello?”

“Yoi?” A familiar voice said into his ear and he damn near dropped the phone before he put it on speaker and gave Ruruka a rare smile, one of the ones that made her feel like the luckiest girl on earth because it was directed right at her.

“Pekoyama?” He confirmed, unable to stop smiling, especially when Ruruka squealed.

“Peko! Oh my god is it you?” She asked, staring at the phone in wonder.

“Hi to you too, Ruruka.” Even though Peko wasn’t there with them, they could almost see the smile on her face and everything at that moment felt perfectly right. That is, until Peko started speaking again. “Look, I don’t have much time, so I need you guys to listen. I’m fine, I have a place to stay, I miss you both, and I’ll talk to both of you after this, but I have to ask you to do me a favor. I was told never to contact Fuyuhiko or Natsumi again. Ever. I miss them a lot and I would really appreciate if you could at least tell them that you know that I’m okay, just in case they were worried.”

“Of course!” Ruruka said, swallowing the candy before continuing. “But where have you been? Where are you now? What happened to you? I’ve been worried sick over you, and so had Yoi. I haven’t seen you in _months_ and--”

“Ruruka, I promise I’ll explain it all soon, but I have to go right now. This isn’t my phone and I won’t be getting mine back until next week, but once I do, I swear on my life that I’ll text you two. I swear it.” Peko felt bad for interrupting, but there wasn’t much time and while it was almost flattering to hear how worried Ruruka was for her and how much she cared, she didn’t really have time for histrionics. 

“I’m holding you to that.” She said huffily, and Peko could almost see the pout in her mind.

“Stay safe out there. If you need anything, call. Wherever I am, I’ll answer.” Izayoi said, not knowing how much of her story to believe but he had to trust for now that she wasn’t actively being attacked. 

“I will. I’ll talk to you soon. Both of you.” With that, Peko hung up the phone and Ruruka and Sonosuke looked at each other.

“Text Juzo, I’ve got Ryota and the Kuzuryuus. This warrants an emergency meeting.” Ruruka declared, grabbing for her own phone. Mondays generally were awful, but this was a pretty good one in her book.

***

Juzo Sakakura was in the middle of training when he got the call. All he had been doing for the past week or two was avoiding everyone and punching things because all he could think about was that blonde brat and her massive hold over his life. The only calls he answered were work related or ones from people who saw the missing posters. He ignored Chisa’s various pleas for an explanation, Munakata’s strange midnight memes, and even Natsumi spamming his phone by sending the entirety of the Bee Movie script at three in the morning because she was mad at him for avoiding her.

When his punch was interrupted by his cell phone going off, he almost didn’t check it, but curiosity got the best of him and when he saw that it was an unfamiliar number, Juzo answered.

“Juzo Sakakura?” The voice on the other side of the phone said, a voice that didn’t belong to a sales representative or a scammer or one of the many concerned soccer moms who thought they saw Peko everywhere. This sounded like a young woman, maybe a teenager, one who was all business and yet there was some softness there, enough that his reply of “Yes?” wasn’t as harsh as usual.

“I’m Peko Pekoyama.” The voice introduced, stopping for half of a second to let him digest the news before continuing on. “And I don’t know why you’re looking for me, but I have very little time. You have about two minutes to explain.”

Juzo couldn’t say that he liked her tone and he was thoroughly tempted to tell her to fuck off, but this was the girl he had spent days of his life searching for, the one he had heard more stories about than he had about most of is relatives, and so he would explain just so that he wouldn’t have to deal with Fuyuhiko asking a thousand times why he would even dare to not answer every single question Peko could have possibly thought of asking. “Fuyuhiko and Natsumi. It was their idea, I’ve been helping along with Izayoi, his girlfriend, and her cousin. Putting up posters, asking questions, all of that shit. They’re technically my bosses, so...Well, you get how it is.”

The news that it was indeed Fuyuhiko and Natsumi behind the insane effort to find her actually warmed Peko’s heart even though she was talking to the person who held the position she once had and had wanted back so desperately and now she wanted to want it again but she just _couldn’t_. She had become too much of her own person to ever go back to being a tool. Somewhere along the way, she became a girl who was allowed to feel things and now that what she was feeling was good and warm, she didn’t want to go back to the emptiness that had been prominent throughout most of her days. “I...They’re looking for me? Do they know that I’m not allowed to speak to them?”

“They know. I just don’t think they give a shit.” He admitted, chuckling as he remembered how viciously Fuyuhiko fought his mother on his right to contact Peko. 

“If I talk to them, they’ll get beaten at the very best.” She said, the guilt coming back and eclipsing the joyous sensation of being loved back. 

“They think they can trick the system, pull one over on the man and all that bull.” Juzo scoffed, but he kept talking. “Between the two of them, there’s enough stubbornness that they might be able to pull it off and they aren’t going to stop until they talk to you again.”

He heard Peko sigh on the other end of the line, the sigh of someone who thought it would be hopeless on a logical level but still somehow harbored some hope in their heart. It was the sigh he sighed every time he thought about Munakata, so he was familiar with it. “I have to go, I only have a minute. This isn’t my phone, so don’t call me back here. I won’t be able to call you until next week, so if you have anything else to say, please hold it until then. And thank you, by the way. For protecting them when I can’t. If you can, tell them that I’m alright.”

“I can do that. Oh, and before you go, a piece of advice.” Juzo paused, debating for a second if it really was a good idea to warn her or not, but he decided that he ought to. “I didn’t tell you this, but be cautious of Junko Enoshima.”

“I’ll do that.” Peko told him after a moment of silence. “Thank you for the warning.”

With that, Peko hung up the phone and Juzo stared at it for a minute and saw that while he was talking with Peko, he had gotten a text from Izayoi, telling him that Peko had called and that they were to have an emergency meeting at 3 pm in the back of Ando’s Cakes and Confections. He agreed to it immediately and then went back to the punching bag. There still didn’t seem to be much hope for him, but the fact that something was going right for somebody somewhere offered him some distant comfort as he returned to digging his fists into the punching bag.


	15. The Whirlwind (Alternatively: No!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, another chapter! I've been figuring things out and I think that this will end up being 20 chapters, so after this, there are 5 more to go! I'm probably going to have this fic finished by the end of January. Here's a list of fics I'm considering writing after this is done, so let me know in the comments which ones you're the most interested in, and thanks for reading!
> 
> 1\. "Junko lied at the end of DR1 and the world is actually normal and the survivors have to deal with that" AU 
> 
> 2\. Kizakura recruiting the 76th, 77th, and 78th class with each character getting a chapter. (including Natsumi and Hajime/Izuru for Reasons)
> 
> 3\. Kirigiri is a teenage detective who has to live with her father after spending years abroad doing detective things for the DSC who needs to be socialized and Naegi is a poor-yet-charming teenager with a business finding lost things which wants to get the infamous DSC Scholarship but needs a tutor. They team up and Naegiri ensues 
> 
> 4\. An epic band consisting of Naegi, Komaru, Fukawa, Hajime, Kiibo, and Kaede called The Protagonists who move to Hollywood and go on multiple misadventures
> 
> 5\. (Pending release of NDVR3) 5 or 6 of the characters from that game (have yet to decide which, but probably Kiibo somewhere because I love that robot boy) who have been arrested are recruited by the Future Foundation to help stop a string of crimes being attributed to a group called the Remnants of Despair. Lots of madness ensues

At 2:55 in the afternoon, Ruruka Ando cleared out the kitchen of Ando’s Cakes and Confections and shut it all down, telling the employees that they were not to interrupt the very important meeting that was about to occur. They didn’t seem to take her seriously until Izayoi showed up behind her, his usual scowl far more intense than usual when he saw that they weren’t as serious about this as Ruruka was. After that, they didn’t question it. Not when Ryouta showed up, followed by a man with more arm muscle than common sense. The staff didn’t even question the fact that the Kuzuryuus entered and that Fuyuhiko was actually _smiling_ , a sight that was so rare that nobody could recall the last time they saw it.

Ruruka, as per usual with the meetings, had an array of goodies for everyone to munch on while they discussed things. She sat on the edge of one of the counters, covered in a light dusting of flour that made her look somehow surreal, as if she was a fairy instead of a real person. Izayoi was next to her and he occasionally amused himself by doodling little hearts in the flour, which caused her to let out laughs that warmed his very soul. Ryota stood awkwardly a little distance away from them, putting his hands in his pockets and trying not to look directly at anyone in particular. Juzo stood across from them, eating a piece of taffy and trying to figure out what to say. The meetings were always tough since he had to worry about not giving away too much, but after avoiding everyone and seeing Junko and talking to Peko, he had the feeling that something was going to give.

When Fuyuhiko and Natsumi entered the room, Juzo was reminded of the sun because they were both absolutely glowing with joy. Natsumi flounced over to a tray of cookies, a bounce in her step that she only had after she had wrecked someone’s reputation or got uncommonly good news. Her laughter echoed around the kitchen, loud and fearless and somewhat haunting. Fuyuhiko was quieter, but the smile on his face and the color in his cheeks was more certain, more reliable than all of his sister’s dancing about. He leaned on the counter next to Juzo, nibbling on cookies and thinking about Peko. For the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to think of a future with her, a future as equals. Fuyuhiko would find her and they could do normal things, they could walk next to each other as equals, and if she felt the same way he could kiss her at the top of ferris wheels and inside of his car and in the middle of the sidewalk and hold her hand and maybe even marry her because fuck what his parents said about politics, fuck what anyone thought because all that mattered in the whole world at that moment was the people gathered in that kitchen and Peko, who existed much closer to it than he ever could have hoped. 

“So…” Ruruka began, a hint of a laugh in her voice. “Peko called!”

“Okay, so like, you have to tell us what she said! Word for word.” Natsumi demanded, sitting on the opposite counter and swinging her legs back and forth.

“Well, she didn’t call me. She called Yoi, but he put her on speaker. Now, I’m ecstatic that she called, but I’m also a little worried because she called in the middle of the day and said that she didn’t have much time to call. She said that she was fine and had a place to stay and missed us all very much and that she wanted us to tell you and Fuyuhiko that she was okay because she wouldn’t ever be allowed to talk to you guys again. Then I lectured her about how worried and upset we all were, but she cut me off and said that she had to go because she only had a little time and the phone she was calling from wasn’t hers, but that she would call from her phone in a week. And then she hung up.” Ruruka told the story as accurately as she could, making sure not to leave out details of what she said. 

“She sounded pretty rushed.” Izayoi spoke up, frowning at nothing in particular. “Like she might have been under some duress.”

The smile dropped from everyone’s faces when he said that and Natsumi dropped her cookie on the floor.

“You...You don’t think that she could’ve been kidnapped, do you?” Ryota asked, knowing that if she was kidnapped, it was his duty to rescue her immediately. The only issue was that he wasn’t exactly knight in shining armor material. 

“Peko? No way.” Fuyuhiko scoffed at the very concept, half out of confidence and half because the idea was too awful for him to consider. “I know you’ve never met her, but let me tell you, I’ve seen the girl with a sword. Any kidnapper would’ve been sliced to pieces and scattered across the state. We were kidnapped together when we were little and she got me us out within the hour. If she was kidnapped, she’s definitely free by now.” 

“Yeah, I doubt she would be _kidnapped_. I don’t think there’s anyone stupid enough to try and kidnap her.” Natsumi agreed with him on that, not able to put the picture of Peko Pekoyama with the picture of somebody who had been kidnapped.

“Still, I mean, it’s possible.” Ryota said softly. As he said that, Ruruka got an idea. She held Sonosuke’s hand and squeezed it twice, which was their silent code for when Ruruka was going to institute a plan that she just thought of and that he should just go along with it. He gave her an imperceptible nod in acknowledgement and let her go.

“Yeah, but would she have defended herself? I saw how she protected Fuyuhiko. It was totally reckless! She had no regard for her own life. Who’s to say that hasn’t changed?” Ruruka’s eyes watered at the thought, even though she didn’t truly believe that was what happened. It was very possible that Peko would do that, but she had a gut feeling that whatever was causing Peko’s time crunch wasn’t a kidnapper. 

“...” Fuyuhiko’s eyes widened as he thought of that very real possibility, thought of the way she had jumped in front of him when danger arrived and took bullets to the eg and stomach without even thinking. He thought of her face, eyes closed and lips chapped and then he thought the blood soaking her shirt and her tights and how despite all of that blood and pain, how she didn’t even scream. She had stayed utterly silent. He was completely lost in that thought, his eyes not moving from a silver mixing bowl in the distance and he looked almost as if he had died and somebody had forgotten to inform his circulatory system of that fact. 

“No, she couldn’t have!” Natsumi insisted, but something in the way she all but screamed it let Ruruka know that it was getting to her. It pained her to see the Kuzuryuus upset, but it was important. If she was able to get them all upset enough, then Sakakura would confess. For months, Ruruka had been slowly working away at him, trying to get the secret out of him. She knew he knew something, knew it as certainly as she knew her own name. 

“Theoretically, she could.” Ryota said, and Natsumi turned the full force of her whirlwind anger on him.

“Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!” She shrieked, hopping off of the counter and grabbing a butterfly knife from the waist of her skirt. 

No one moved for a second and then Natsumi broke into tears, dropping the knife and wrapping her arms around herself. It was that display of absolute desperation from a girl he associated with annoying teenage optimism that did it, just as Ruruka predicted it would.

“Peko hasn’t been kidnapped.” Sakakura said. “I know that she hasn’t.”

“Eh? How do you know?” Ruruka asked, and that was when Izayoi put together exactly what she was doing. He couldn’t say that he liked that Ruruka had a habit of manipulating situations like that, but he had to admire her cleverness and the fact that she had sent him an apologetic glance during all of this because even if getting Natsumi upset was part of the plan, it still hurt her to see a friend in pain.

Juzo took a deep breath, deciding that now was probably the best time to confess or else it was very possible that Natsumi would pick up that knife again. “Because I know where she is.”

Fuyuhiko snapped out of his stupor and turned his attention to Sakakura, going from looking like a living corpse to a being so awake and alive that all other life paled in comparison to it. “What the fuck did you say?”

“I said I know where she is. I’ve known for months.” Before he could continue his explanation, Fuyuhiko picked up the knife with shaking hands and curled his free hand into a fist. 

“What do you mean you’ve known? Why the fuck didn’t you tell us? Huh? I asked you a question, jackass! I asked you why the fuck you didn’t say anything!” Fuyuhiko kicked the counter and then took to pacing around the room like a caged animal. Ryota was still shaking from the incident with Natsumi, who had stopped crying and was now glaring at Sakakura. Ruruka’s eyes were wide, as she hadn’t expected him to actually know where she was. It was Izayoi who stayed calm, who looked at the situation and figured the best way to return things to normality.

“Can you tell us where she is?” He asked, his voice showing no judgement either way, as if he was simply asking about the weather instead of the fate of his friend. 

“No.” He said, looking down at the floor. “Not unless I want to lose my job. I’m under a gag order.”

“From my parents?” Natsumi asked, her glare not softening or wavering.

“From your parents.” Juzo confirmed.

Izayoi decided to continue his questioning. “What can you tell us?”

“Well, I can tell you that you’re on the right track. The section of the city that she’s in, you’ve already got it circled. And the airport, that was good. You’ve got the terminal right, you just need to look around there. And Junko Enoshima…”

“Who the fuck is Junko Enoshima?” Fuyuhiko stopped his pacing for a second, trying to remember if or where he had heard the name before.

“A girl who knows where Peko is. A girl who will probably tell you if you ask. But she’s….She’s dangerous. Remember a few months back, when all those people involved in the Chicago Police Department and the public defender’s office started showing up dead? She was behind that. Not her personally, no, she had someone do that for her. Twenty people dead, shot execution style and buried in a park. And the people involved in her trial, the one where she killed her own sister? Yeah, they all committed suicide, apparently.” He shook his head and chuckled bitterly, knowing exactly what she was capable of and knowing that Peko was screwed if she didn’t get away. “Don’t worry, when Peko called me, I warned her about that bitch.”

“She called you?” Ryota asked, still shaking slightly.

“Yeah. She didn’t say anything too different than what she said to Ando, though.” Juzo was still looking at his shoes, unable to face the judgemental expressions of the people he had strangely grown fond of over time, even though he pretended to hate them. He pretended to be annoyed with Izayoi’s drawn-out silences and unbreakable loyalty and Ruruka’s maddening cleverness and constant doubt, pretended to be unable to stand the way that Natsumi took nothing seriously and always saw the bright side and the fact that Ryota, despite all of his talent, was still shy and humble, pretended liked he hated Fuyuhiko’s stubbornness and foul mouth, but the reality of the situation was that they were something of friends to him after all this time and the fact that they almost certainly hated him at that moment was hard to bear.

“So we need to find Junko.” Fuyuhiko said. “We find Junko and she’ll tell us. You never said that you couldn’t tell us where Junko was, did you?”

“If I tell you that, she’ll...Well, I made a deal with her. She said that she’d lead you to Peko in her own time, and I don’t think she’d appreciate me telling you how to find her.” He muttered, pulling at the sleeves of his coat.

“I don’t give a fuck what she appreciates!” Fuyuhiko exclaimed, continuing his pacing and running his hand through his hair. “You lied to us and now what, we just have to wait for some random bitch to decide when she wants to tell us where Peko is? Screw that! We’ll find her without Enoshima. And without you. Get out of my fucking sight, Sakakura.”

Juzo shook his head at that order. “No can do, kiddo. If I show back up at the Kuzuryuu place before you do, I lose money. I’m supposed to stay by your side, and believe me, I’d very much like to get out of your sight, but you’re stuck with me.”

“Don’t call me kiddo!” That seemed to irritate Fuyuhiko more than anything and he stopped to look out the window that peered out into that alley where he last saw Peko. He approached the window and rested his hand on the cool glass, shaking his head.

“Well, we don’t necessarily have to wait for Junko.” Ryota said. “Didn’t you say that she was going to call you next week, Ruruka?”

“She did!” Ruruka confirmed, glad that he had thought of that. “So we just have to get her to tell us where she is. She won’t tell us if she thinks we’ll tell Fuyuhiko because like, she’s worried about him and Natsumi getting hurt, but if one of them just so happens to be in the bakery at the time and overhears something…”

“Ruruka, you’re brilliant!” Natsumi exclaimed, her eyes going wide. “I volunteer! Because I’m 87% sure that if Fuyuhiko hears Peko’s voice, he’s going to break and talk to her. Me, I’m a pro at keeping my mouth shut.”

Fuyuhiko actually chuckled at that, which was a relief for everyone in the room. “I doubt it, sis. You’re nothing if not loud.”

“Shhhh.” She waved a hand in front of his face dramatically, stretching out on the counter. “I can keep my mouth shut for five minutes. So can you, but I have the definite advantage of not being lovesick, so….”

“I am not!” Fuyuhiko insisted, his face going bright red. Natsumi and Ruruka both found that reaction absolutely hysterical and they broke into laughter. Ryota chuckled as well, and Izayoi smiled at Ruruka with a knowing expression. Juzo just shook his head and Fuyuhiko sighed. “But I guess Nat can take that one. She’s about five seconds away from expulsion anyways, I doubt skipping one more Monday is going to change anything.”

“Exactly! And who knows, maybe we’ll just so happen to transfer to her school.” Natsumi wiggled her eyebrows and then looked at her phone and making sure that Sakakura wasn’t looking at her screen, she began her search for Junko Enoshima because rules be damned, she could always just speed things up by “accidentally” becoming friends with her and the best way to start that was finding her Twitter. 

The meeting was soon disbanded afterwards, but not for Fuyuhiko. Now that he knew that they were on the right track with finding Peko, he started to look for where she might be staying. The area they had circled was small, but it was right. In that vicinity, there were a bunch of apartments, a few actual houses, a hotel, and a strange place called Hope’s Peak Halfway House. Even if it was hard to imagine Peko accepting anyone’s help unless she was dragged kicking and screaming, Fuyuhiko decided to start looking there. At least it would help him rule something out. 

***

Meanwhile, Peko Pekoyama was stuck in her own personal hell: group therapy. Junko had indeed called Chisa on her and Peko had ten minutes to get rid of the posters and her swords before Chisa showed up. As per protocol, she had her whole room searched and had to have a proper sit-down therapy session in which the punishments were given out and the parents were called. Both of her parents were unhappy with her act of truancy, but more annoying was the fact that she wouldn’t tell anyone what she was doing or why she did it. In fact, she refused to say anything at all. She still wasn’t sure how to feel about all that had happened. Peko was relieved that the mystery was solved, that no one was out to hurt her, but there was also the sad knowledge that Fuyuhiko and Natsumi could look for her for a thousand years but the only thing getting in the way of them seeing her again was Peko herself. As much as she wanted to see them, as much as she wanted to have a girl’s night with Natsumi and wander around with Fuyuhiko and pretend not to notice the fact that whenever their hands would brush, he would leave his there for a little longer than normal, Peko knew that it would put them in danger, and she would sooner die than risk getting them hurt. It was a confusing combination of feelings and she didn’t particularly feel like talking, but everyone was trying to coax words from her when she just wanted to be left alone.

The only thing that actually got words from her in the hours between being found and group therapy was something her father said in anger, around the one hour mark of the meeting between him, Chisa, Peko, and Peko’s mother. “God, I wish you had just stayed in whatever hole you crawled out of.” He said, putting his head in his hands and sighing. Before Chisa and her mother could berate him, Peko responded.

“So do I.” She told him, knowing that it was impossible for her to go back now that she was a person, but at this moment in time, Peko didn’t want to be one anymore. She wanted all of the feelings to leave, for her to turn back into cold and unfeeling steel, but she couldn’t quite do it. 

That meeting ended soon thereafter and after a thirty minute break in which Chisa ate and Peko tried her hardest not to exist, hell began. This Monday, it was her, Hajime, Komaeda, Hiyoko, Ibuki, Junko, Mondo, Naegi, Kirigiri, and Akane, almost all of whom knew about her skipping adventure and the consequences of it. Peko sat between Naegi and Akane because she figured that neither one of them would ask her about it because Naegi was too polite and Akane might not have noticed.

“Alright!” Chisa began, somehow finding it within herself to be cheerful and upbeat after spending multiple hours with the silent and stubborn Peko. This wasn’t the first time she had gone entirely mute on them and Chisa knew that it wouldn’t be the last time it happened. Defenses like that were hard to break. “So, who wants to begin?”

“I do!” Junko declared, giving Peko a look that shook her to the core. 

“Okay, Junko.” Chisa smiled, interpreting this as Junko finally deciding to try and participate in therapy after years and years of struggle. “How was your day?”

“Very not good.” Junko said with a childish pout, pausing so that everyone could understand the depths of her misery before she continued. “I woke up late and my hair was kinda frizzy and I had a big math test today and I don’t think I did well on it at _all_ because I spent all of math worrying.”

“Worried? What were you worryin’ about?” Akane asked, thoroughly confused by that statement because she knew Junko to never be worried about anything.

Junko had to resist the urge to smile because it was all too easy to set up the situation, all too easy to put everything in place to turn the conversation to Peko. “Lucy, of course! Don’t ‘cha know what she did today? She went to school and then she just _left_ and nobody knew where she was or what she was up to! Where were you, Lu-Lu? What were you up to? Mikan and I were worried _sick_!”

Peko shifted in her seat, looking around at the people in the room as if expecting one of them to answer for her because she didn’t know where to even start. Furthermore, after Sakakura’s warning, she didn’t really want to tell Junko anything and she wasn’t close enough with anyone else in the room to feel comfortable spilling her darker secrets to them.

“Yeah, I was worried too!” Ibuki said. “I missed my super-cool ninja friend! Rehearsal sucked without you!”

“Mhmmm. What _were_ you doing?” Hiyoko chimed in, not because she cared about what Peko was up to but because it was fun to watch her squirm, fun to watch someone else suffer for once. 

“I was here.” Peko told them, knowing that answer wouldn’t satisfy but knowing that she had to say something.

“Doing…?” Junko gestured for her to finish the thought, but she simply shook her head.

Junko sighed loudly and stretched out her arms, deciding to go for the kill as far as guilt tripping. As vengeance for Peko’s disobedience, she decided that a public confession was the best because it would kill her on the inside to have to do it. “You know, you never tell us _anything_ , Lucy! It gets so bothersome! I mean, I’ve told you all about when I was accused of murder and Mondo’s told us everything about juvie and Ibuki told us about all about her relapsing and Naegi told us about when he was homeless and what those kids in the shelter did to him and Hajime gave us all the non-details about not being able to remember six months of his life and Komaeda told us about the time he was _kidnapped_ and thrown into a _trash bag_. And yet you can’t even tell us why you skipped school! Even Kirigiri opens up sometimes and talks about how ugly her hands are and about how her dad left! Come _on_ Lu-Lu, tell us _something_!” 

Peko squirmed in her seat as Junko laid out all of that damning information and used everyone else’s traumas to prove her point. Yes, they all trusted each other and her refusal to talk certainly made her look bad, but she couldn’t quite make herself talk about it. The words wouldn’t leave her throat, and the more she thought about it, Peko didn’t want them to. Maybe someday, she would be alright with talking about it with these people, but not now. Not today. Today, she just wanted to have silence and space and peace and confession would do none of those things. It would just open up scars that were just beginning to heal and she didn’t want that. She felt a sense of obligation to the group and just when the pressure seemed like it was too much, she remembered something she remembered one of her teachers talking about when they were learning about the Constitution. Every citizen had the right to remain silent to avoid further incriminating themselves. Socially, they could do as they pleased, but legally, they couldn’t make her talk.

“No.” She said simply, finding that the refusal felt so good on her lips. Peko tried to think of times when she was allowed to say no and she realized that she was never allowed to, but now she could. She could reject whatever she wanted, she could refuse to talk and refuse to go out and refuse to do Junko’s homework and she could refuse to spent all of her time at somebody else’s beck and call. That small word had so much power and Peko was struck by the urge to say it again and again, to refuse everything that was put in front of her just because she could, because she finally realized that she could say no to things and she could stay quiet about things and that she could do what she wanted. Sure, Peko was still able and willing to sacrifice for others, but she could follow her own will. She was a person, free and given certain rights just because she existed. “No!” She repeated, something like joy breaking through her voice.

Her reaction confused every single person in the room except for Mondo. It was a long time coming, her learning the power of rejection, and he had been seeing it build up for years and years. There was something immensely satisfying about watching it finally spill over and he couldn’t help but smile with her. Even though he knew that he ought to encourage her to open up, to be more trusting, it was much better watching Peko stand up to Enoshima than to try and force her to do something that she didn’t want to do. 

“What do you mean, no?” Junko asked, her demeanor going from pleading to cold and indifferent and authoritarian. Maybe that would work.

“I mean no!” Peko actually laughed, even though she couldn’t name what exactly was so funny. Maybe it was the fact that it took her this long to learn how to say no when it had been Natsumi’s first word, maybe it was the fact that she was saying it after spending months listening to Junko because of her belief that nobody else loved her at all, but it was all so funny in that moment that she couldn’t help but laugh. She was learning how to say no too late for it to fix any of the awful things that had happened, but it could prevent awful things from happening in the future. “I mean exactly what I said. No.”

She stood up from her seat, standing tall and proud. Junko stood up as well and Peko suddenly noticed that she was the taller of the two of them, that she had a good half an inch on Junko Enoshima, who had always seemed so much larger than life. “Junko, Lucy, please sit down!” Chisa said, and Peko shook her head.

“No.” She said again, and then she walked out, not finding it in her to sit there with all of those people who mostly meant well but just didn’t quite seem to get that she wasn’t ready to say anything else but that one word that held so much power. Without making much of a fuss, she went back to her room, sat down on her bed, ran her hand through Elsie’s snow-white fur, and practiced the fine art of refusal. She almost wanted to break the rules in that moment and talk to Fuyuhiko about this. Peko had the distant yet certain feeling that he would be proud of her. And it was right then she realized that she could refuse those rules, too, if she so pleased. If she could find a way to ensure that Fuyuhiko and Natsumi stayed safe, Peko could do just that.


	16. As Fate Would Have It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Thursday update???? What is this????? But I really wanted to write this chapter so I just did it. So far, the "Junko lied about the Monoworld" AU seems to be the most popular choice for my next fic, but voting is still open! I think I'll officially close it the chapter before last. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Junko Enoshima was less than pleased by this turn of events, to say the absolute least. As she watched Peko storm out and she waged her dramatic fit about how none of her friends truly loved her, she planned to get her vengeance. It would require some edits to the plan, but Junko was a good improvisor and besides, it wouldn’t change the general setup of the thing. She would still get her few select people, make it look like they absolutely had to help her set up the mutual killing through various methods, lock them all in, and enjoy. It was detail changes, not structural ones, so Junko wasn’t too worried, just pissed off, and that was far more dangerous. 

Mondo didn’t quite understand what she was planning, but he knew enough about the situation that it wasn’t safe, that Peko had to get out and away from her as soon as possible. Once the disaster of a group therapy session ended, he all but ran to her room. Peko was asleep, her hair splayed out across her pillow with a small smile on her face as her cat stood guard. Elsie hissed at him, which caused Peko to wake up and look over at him. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, yawned, and then got up.

“So, what did I miss?” She asked, stretching her arms and trying not to worry. Certainly her actions would have consequences, but they would be worth the realization of her right to say no. Peko knew that she ought to be scared, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be frightened of Junko in that moment. She felt all but invincible as Mondo warned her.

“Enoshima’s distraught. Keeps talking about how people abandon her, but anyone with eyes can see that she’s pissed at you. If I were you, I’d find some place to be for the next few hours.” He offered his hand to the cat to try and stop her hissing, and it succeeded for about three seconds until Junko passed her room. 

“Lu-Lu!” She exclaimed, barging her way into the room. Elsie retreated, hissing at Junko with a renewed ferocity as she stood behind Peko, making her dissatisfaction known. “Lu-Lu, what the fuck is going on with you?”

“Hey, what the fuck are you comin’ in here for?” Mondo asked her, cracking his knuckles and glaring over at her. 

“None of your business! This is girl talk time. Go hang out with your boyfriend or something.” Junko began to try and push him out of the room, but Oowada refused to budge until he saw Peko give him a small nod, one that said that she would be alright, that she was capable of handling Junko Enoshima. Still, he didn’t want to stray too far unless something happened.

Junko gestured for Peko to sit down on the bed, but she remained standing tall and proud, her glasses slightly askew and her hair tousled from her brief nap. This caused Junko to huff loudly and flop herself down on the bed, punch her pillows, get back up, kick the dresser, punch the walls, and then start crying hysterically. Peko didn’t even blink at this display of histrionics, she just stood still and silent and let the whirlwind that was Junko Enoshima run its course.

“What is up with you?! Why do you keep so many things from me?! I thought we were friends!” Junko choked out, clutching the front of Peko’s shirt. Mostly because it seemed to be the best way to get Junko out of her room sooner, Peko wrapped an arm around her.

“We are. If you hadn’t called Chisa like I asked you to, I would’ve had time to explain everything to you. As for my...outburst, I had a difficult session with Chisa and my parents and didn’t want to discuss things anymore. I’m still not good at communicating that, I’m afraid. I’m sorry to have upset you so much.” Peko gave her an apologetic smile, but she didn’t feel sorry for it. She slept on it and thought about it and she felt no guilt for refusing to discuss her past. Yes, everyone else did, but they hadn’t gone through what she had gone through, not in the same exact way. Over the months, she learned that people dealt with things in all sorts of ways, some good and some bad, and this was how she dealt with what happened to her.

“No shit.” Junko said, wiping away the crocodile tears. “You’re forgiven, I guess, but there had to be consequences for you doing that! You totally humiliated me.”

Peko didn’t say anything to that because there was nothing to be said. Sure, she could refuse that too, but she also remembered Sakakura’s advice and while she valued her freedom, she also valued her safety. It was odd to think with self-preservation in mind, but she knew that there were people who valued her and she was just learning to value herself so she just nodded and let Junko continue on.

“As punishment for what you’ve done, you can’t sit at my table for the next two weeks, you have to do my math homework for the next month because god, I hate math, and you _have_ to tell me why you skipped today. As a bonus, the more you tell me about your past, the more days I knock off of your punishments.” Junko’s tone switched again, which wasn’t even surprising to Peko anymore. 

“I wanted to see who was putting up the posters in my room. I thought that whoever might be behind this might be monitoring my phone, so I couldn’t text you about it, and when I decided to finally do it, I didn’t have time to catch you alone.” Peko told as much of the truth as she could, and Junko seemed to buy it.

“Still, you could’ve told me you were thinking about it.” She tried to look down on Peko, but they were still fairly close in height, so she couldn’t quite manage to do it.

“I could have. I _should_ have, and I’m sorry that I didn’t.” Peko wanted to throw up every time she apologized, but this was a matter of keeping the peace. This was for her survival because until she found out exactly what Sakakura meant, she had to treat Junko as if she was lethal.

“I forgive you. Still friends?” Her tone switched once more and now she was all but pleading, her lips stuck out in a comical pout.

“Still friends.” Peko told her, even if she would have rather cut her off right then and there, but this would have to be a slow process. This wasn’t ripping off a band-aid, this was disarming a bomb. Moving too fast would cause errors and those errors could very well end up with her death.

Junko smiled and then flounced off, saying something about Mikan and tea and a date with someone from St. Mark’s (Peko tried to think of which person she could be referring to from her old school, but she couldn’t think of anyone that would be to Junko’s tastes), finally leaving Peko alone. Despite the fact that there was nothing in the world she wanted to do less, Peko got up and began to get ready for another dinner with the Ishimarus. The last thing she needed or wanted was Kiyotaka lecturing her on the importance of court orders. 

***

Natsumi Kuzuryuu, phone in one hand and soda in another, was splayed out on the floor and sighing dramatically as she checked her phone every few minutes. As soon as the meeting ended, she had checked her phone to see that she had been followed on Instagram, Twitter, and even Facebook ( _Who even uses Facebook anymore_ she had thought when she saw it) by a certain Junko Enoshima and once she saw that, she was over the moon. She had burst into her brother’s room and shoved her phone in his face and danced around like she was a child on Christmas morning because it was one giant leap closer to finding Peko. She believed in her ability to stay safe from whatever Junko would try to do and believed even more so in her ability to manipulate Junko into saying exactly where Peko was.

“I can’t believe it.” Fuyuhiko had said, looking up from his laptop where there were nine different tabs open all relating to Hope’s Peak and Peko Pekoyama. A few Google searches had lead him to a few clickbait articles from months ago that claimed a Lucy Pekoyama was the half-sibling of the Ishimarus, who he remembered distantly as business partners and general nuisances. He figured that the name on her birth certificate wasn’t Peko, so he was open to the possibility that it was maybe her, but none of them had photos attached of the girl in question. The other tabs were the Hope’s Peak website, a blog belonging to a Nadine Pekoyama, a few news articles about Junko Enoshima, and Ruruka’s endless Tumblr posts about finding Peko that were posted every six hours. 

Now Natsumi was reading him every post, every message Junko sent and he sat there, trying to get a solid grip on the girl. “Why can’t you just ask her about Peko?” He complained after hearing what felt like the fiftieth message about various makeup brands.

“Because that’s not how these things _work_! It takes _subtly_. It takes _finesse_. It takes memes danker than your wildest imagination and eyeliner sharper than any sword Peko’s ever had.” Natsumi put down her soda to make sweeping arm movements so that he understood the scope of what it took. Fuyuhiko, instead of responding with adequate amazement for her skills, dropped a pillow directly on her face and lovingly but firmly called her a fucker.

After five minutes of smacking each other with pillows and exchanging insults, Natsumi scrolled through Junko’s Instagram and lo and behold, four posts down was a tall girl with silver hair, her back turned to the camera and her hands on her hips as she peered at a stage, captioned “real questions: when will any member of your squad ever be so #fabulous?” 

“FUYUHIKO OH MY GOD IT’S HERRRRRRRRRRRR!” Natsumi shrieked and hopped up from the floor in order to show him the photo.

Fuyuhiko could barely believe his eyes, but there she was. He couldn’t see her face, but he just _knew_. The way she stood, confident yet disapproving, was so uniquely Peko. He had seen that stance a thousand times, usually just after she had performed some amazing feat with her sword that looked incredible to him but was somewhat below her personal standards. No one else had silver hair like hers, and it was rare to find any girl as tall and pale as she was. He was enraptured by the photograph and tried to imagine what she was thinking, what she was doing, what expression would be on her face. He could close his eyes and almost see the slight frown and arched eyebrows and candy-red eyes behind unassuming glasses that had eluded his mind for so long. Over the months, her face had faded in his mind, but now Fuyuhiko remembered every detail. He opened his eyes again, not daring to believe it, but yet there she was. Peko was _safe_. Peko was _alive_. Peko was still in Chicago and wearing a school uniform and presumably happy with her life and nothing could’ve given him more relief.

“It’s her.” He confirmed in a whisper so soft that it was almost inaudible, but Natsumi heard it and all but tackled him into a hug and then pulled him off of the bed and started jumping around.

“We found her! We did it!” She was laughing and soon Fuyuhiko was laughing too, doubled over as Natsumi dramatically imitated a sports announcer and announced each and every post of Peko. There were pictures of Peko in the background, her face usually turned away as she focused on something more pressing than someone else’s selfie. When she was caught, her expressions were similarly blank to the view of strangers, but to Fuyuhiko and Natsumi, each was wildly different and expressed a different emotion. There were tired Pekos and happy Pekos and angry Pekos and confused Pekos and every possible Peko in between. Junko’s messages went unread for nearly an hour as they poured over each photograph and sent them to the newly-created “WE FOUND PEKO!!!!!!!” group chat and there, each photograph was analyzed again and again and again and somehow, Fuyuhiko never got sick of talking about it.

Once their parents returned, Fuyuhiko and Natsumi were quieter about their celebrations, but no less joyful. As Peko would, she didn’t seem to use any social media, mostly because she had yet to be convinced that her thoughts were worth sharing with the world, so there was no way to contact her directly and she had said that the phone she called from wasn’t hers. So the only way to get to her was through Junko, and that would take Natsumi. Unless…

“Hey, did Enoshima mentioned what school she goes to? A lot of the pictures were at school, so I figured…” Fuyuhiko’s thoughts trailed off as he tried to think of exactly what he was figuring because he was sans a solid plan because he was so happy and yet so nervous that he could hardly think straight. What would he say to her when he saw her again? Would it be too risky to go in for a hug? A kiss? Would she even want to see him? Fuyuhiko could hardly blame her for not wanting to see any of them again, but he still had hope that she’d be willing to talk to him just one more time, at least to give him a proper goodbye. The idea of living the rest of his life without Peko because she didn’t want to be with him hurt, not like a punch to the gut but more like a constant seasickness for which there was no cure and no remedy and no distraction from. If she didn’t want to see him, he would respect that choice, but he’d be lying through his teeth if Fuyuhiko said it didn’t hurt him. 

“Ummmmmm, let me look.” Natsumi noticed the expression on her brother’s face, a strange melancholy she wasn’t used to from him, but she was certain an answer would fix it. “St. Bernadette’s!” She declared after a dramatic pause. 

“Isn’t that where Mom threatened to send you if you didn’t stop getting in trouble?” Fuyuhiko distinctly remembered that night, the ferocity of the screaming match between two of the loudest women he knew still burned into his brain. He was half worried one of them would go deaf by rupturing the other’s eardrum, but he was fairly certain going deaf didn’t work like that.

“Mhmm!” She perked up at that reminder, another idea hitting her full-force. “So all I have to do is get in trouble again!”

“Natsumi, _no_.” He said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Natsumi, _yes_!” She countered before sashaying out of the bedroom. “Rest up, Fuyu! You’ll need your beauty sleep. A few more hours and BANG--the rest of your life begins!”

That warning didn’t help to calm him down and soon after she left, Fuyuhiko began pacing around the room, looking at his collection of drawing. With Peko gone, he began to draw more because it was one of the few things that could distract him. Yet somehow, she always ended up in the background of the pictures, sometimes just as a silvery spot in the distance and sometimes as a clear, distinct figure. The only place she couldn’t be found somewhere was in the landscapes, but even then, he remembered the way she dodged bright sunlight to avoid being burnt and how she sometimes would stop when she saw a particularly beautiful flower and reach out almost as if to touch it before pulling her hand away. Fuyuhiko thought about all the times he wanted to tell her that it was alright, that there was sunscreen for burns and nothing wrong with wanting something beautiful to yourself, but he had always kept his mouth shut. He didn’t think he would be doing that anytime soon. 

And yet with all of her little cameos, he had never drawn her in full. He had never made her the center, never drew her as a full person. It was always in little glimpses, in the periphery of the drawing, almost as if it was a secret. The more he thought about that, the more it felt wrong and Fuyuhiko had to fix it before he saw her again as equals. He had drawn portraits of everyone else he loved, but not Peko. Never Peko. Even if it wouldn’t be finished when (or if) he saw her again, he had to start. Fuyuhiko searched for a piece of blank paper and a pencil, ignoring the laptop and the phone and everything else. He finally found it, sat down, and began to draw. The only things he could think of were the beams of sunlight that cut across his room in perfect stripes and Peko Pekoyama, her lips curved into half of a smile as she listened to him talk about trading art and the annoying kids in their class and everything else under the sun. It was the only image that brought him any peace.

*** 

While Fuyuhiko drew and Natsumi met with Junko and the whole world was moving and swirling and alive, Peko was stuck at another awkward Monday dinner in the stuffiest dining room in the world. She was being talked at (not _to_ , she noticed with some mild irritation) from all sides, and none of it was good. Her father was going off on the same vein as before, talking about her stubbornness that had been prevalent from day one and her bad habit of shutting down entirely when she didn’t want to talk and how it was awful for their family to have such a person in it and mentioning that he would disown her if their reputation could afford it. Peko barely listened to him. She had heard quite enough of her father’s voice for one day.

Kiyotaka, meanwhile, was taking the more concerned route. He had been panicked when Junko asked him where she was, had been even more panicked when she hadn’t answered her phone, and was nearly inconsolable when he had to give her a detention for her actions. Peko didn’t mind that. Misery loved company, and she knew Komaeda had detention for accidentally threatening a teacher because he wondered aloud what sort of hope would be created if they dropped down and died right then. The thing that seemed to bother him the most, though, was her refusal to answer where she was and what she was doing and why she had done it. It hurt her to not be able to tell him, but with her father there, it hardly seemed like a good idea, so she tried to silently tell Taka that she would tell him everything later if he just stopped. Her silent explanation evaded Kiyotaka, who was too upset to think about the nuances of her expressions that had always been difficult for him to decipher in the first place. He could catch the general feeling, but the exact details always eluded him.

Of all people, it didn’t escape the notice of Aimi Ishimaru, who had developed something akin to love for her son’s half-sister. She may not have been as knowledgeable about the legal code and the political system as her husband and father-in-law and even her son, but she knew tableside politics and little glances and the language of girls who couldn’t speak. She acknowledged Peko’s message with a curt nod and once Kiyotaka took a break from his speech, she gently nudged him and gestured to Peko with her head. It was then that it clicked for Kiyotaka, and he smiled gratefully at his mother and waited the dinner out. 

“I’ll walk you back to Hope’s Peak.” Kiyotaka offered, grabbing his coat and putting it on.

Peko nodded, glad that he had understood her message. She pulled her beanie onto her head (a gift from Ibuki, who saw it at Hot Topic of all places and thought it would look nice on her) and soon enough, the siblings were out of that house and out in the familiar streets of Chicago.

“So, you’re going to explain now, right?” He confirmed, an excited glimmer in his eyes at the prospect of having a concrete explanation.

“Mhmm. Just...It might take me a while to find the right words. I’m not very good at this sort of thing yet.” Peko ducked her head to try and protect herself from the wind as she tried to figure out where to start and how to say what she wanted to say. 

“Take your time! No need to rush.” Kiyotaka hoped that his words were somehow consoling to her, but it was hard for him to tell.

“Well, a few months ago, people started putting up missing posters of me and--”

“They did _what_?” His eyes went wide at that and Peko had to stifle a laugh because it was about to get even stranger from there and his reactions were somewhat comical. 

“They put up missing posters of me. It’s understandable, really. I did vanish rather suddenly from my usual circle. But then someone started putting them in my room at Hope’s Peak with the numbers blacked out and--”

Kiyotaka cut her off again, too horrified and in awe of her casual attitude about the course of events to stop his gut reactions. “And you didn’t tell anyone?!”

“I ended up telling Junko, but only because she discovered them.” Peko admitted, shoving her hands in her pockets. “I know that I ought to have told you and I thought about it, but it was right before that night with Grandfather and the knife and…And every time I thought about telling you after that, I just couldn’t seem to do it. I’m sorry. The reason I skipped was to hide out in my room and see who was doing it and what they could tell me. And I know, I know, that was dangerous, but I can handle myself in danger. I had my sword. Anyways, I found out who it was and it was an old friend. He was trying to warn me that I was in danger. Blacking out the numbers was just an artistic touch. Once he gave me one that didn’t have the number scribbled out, I realized that it belonged to a different old friend of mine. I called him and was able to talk to him and his girlfriend--another friend--and then my phone was taken and everything else happened. And that’s it.”

Kiyotaka took a minute to fully absorb that information and he was once again reminded that no matter how much he tried, he could never fully understand or enter the world Peko knew before she had dropped into their lives. Even if all of its members were on the edges of his life, he could never get quite close enough to puzzle it all out. Still, he loved her, and that was what mattered in the end. “It’s alright. That’s quite a tale, though.”

“I still have the posters if you don’t believe me.” She offered, gesturing to the Hope’s Peak building, which was a little under a block away.

“No, no, I believe you! It just seems like something you’d see in a spy novel.” He chuckled awkwardly and rubbed the back of his neck, which made Peko smile and let out a small laugh.

“Now that I think about it, it really does.” They lapsed into a comfortable silence after that and that was when Peko noticed a figure approaching Hope’s Peak. There were hundreds of people on that sidewalk, but one stood out to her. Short but somewhat stocky, blonde buzz cut, a coat that looked a little warm for October, green eyes, freckles, a face that gave away the true youth of the person that it was attached to, all of it connected in her mind and she stopped dead in her tracks. He didn’t notice her quite yet, his eyes trained on his phone and she heard him let out a small huff and roll his eyes, the face he made whenever Natsumi texted him something dumb. 

“Lucy? Is something wrong?” Kiyotaka asked, frowning when he noticed her pause. 

“I just remembered that I left some of my schoolwork at my mother’s house.” She lied instinctively and she felt so guilty for it that she immediately retracted the statement. “No, no, it’s not that, it’s that--it’s just that I think I see someone I used to know.”

“Hm? Where?” He looked at the crowd of people, trying to find a face that was familiar to him as well. 

“Head inside, please. Go visit Mondo, I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you, but I need to…” Peko wasn’t sure _what_ she needed to do, but there had to be something. She couldn’t just pass him quietly. Even if they were forbidden from speaking to each other, there had to be a way to get something across to him.

“...Alright.” Kiyotaka head for the building, looking behind him every few seconds to check that Peko was still there, that she wasn’t in danger or upset or anything like that.

It was then that Fuyuhiko looked up from his phone and he could’ve cried from joy because there she was, as real and solid as the lightposts she passed that added a mysterious glow to her figure, almost as if she was angelic. She was more beautiful to him right then, real and alive and free on the sidewalk, than any photograph of her could ever be. No camera could adequately capture the way she kept her hand in her pocket and the way she had of looking him in the eye without seeming to look down on him. There was nothing that could preserve the subtle movement of her head towards the alley, silently asking him to follow her so that they could have a moment.

He didn’t know how long that moment would be or what it would contain. He didn’t know how many more he would have like this one or how many he even had left. He didn’t know what she was thinking or how she had changed in the months since he last saw her or what her life was like now. Fuyuhiko didn’t know a lot of things, but he knew that in that alley where the streetlight still reached them that Peko Pekoyama smiled at him for the first time in what felt like centuries and if someone asked him exactly how he felt in that moment, he would swear on his life that he had never loved anyone more and that he would never love anyone else in quite the same way ever again.


	17. The End of the Beginning and the Beginning of the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another Thursday, another update! Happy Holidays to all of you nerds <3 Consider this my Christmas present to you guys because I suck at writing Christmas one-shots, lol. Tell me what you think of this chapter and thanks for reading!

Peko looked at Fuyuhiko as they stood in the alley between Hope’s Peak and a tiny corner grocery store that Junko liked to terrorize on Wednesday afternoons, still in a state of disbelief. He was here and alive and had been looking for her and she couldn't help but smile. Despite the time and the distance and the fact that bits of him had faded from her mind in their months apart, Peko still loved him just as much as she did back in June, before she even thought she was something close to a person. For a second, she was so unbelievably happy that she forgot about the danger, but her face dropped when it passed her mind.

 

“This is dangerous.” She whispered, pushing up her glasses. “Your father said--”

 

“Fuck him.” Fuyuhiko interjected, but it wasn't in the tone she was used to. When he swore, Peko was used to it being loud and angry and somewhat half-hearted, but this was in a hushed whisper and it sounded so soft and certain that she knew he meant it. “My father can go to hell. He won’t hurt you. If he even tries to, I’ll send Sakakura on his ass before he can even say ‘Pekoyama’. And I know, I know, he’s technically bound to the family or whatever, but I’m at least 90% sure that the contract says he _has_ to side with me in conflicts of interest. And I don't like putting anyone in danger, but if it was to protect you…”

 

“I’m not worried about myself.” She said. “What if you get hurt? He sent me a note that said if we ever even got close to each other that he’d kill you. I don't think he was kidding.”

 

Fuyuhiko sighed at that news, running a hand through his hair. The earlier bliss left his face and he was now looking somewhat distressed. “He won't know. I’ve been looking for you for weeks and he hasn't found out. Plus, I’ll bet that at least my mother has calmed down and she can maybe talk sense into him.”

 

“Still, I could never forgive myself if you got hurt, especially if it was because of me.” It was then that Peko noticed the eyepatch over his one eye, the eye that was unfixable. Looking at that eye made her feel so guilty that she couldn’t help but look away. She ought to have done better, she ought to have been able to get him away unharmed, she ought to have--

 

“Hey, trust me here. I know you want to protect me, but I can trick him. Plus, Natsumi’s helping, and you know how much stuff she’s gotten away with. And Sakakura’s been helping, too. Ruruka and Izayoi practically ran the whole organization and recruited some cousin of Ruruka’s. If either one of us were in any danger, I think she would send in her whole extended family and every single regular customer she has. My father is one person, and you’re on the bottom of his priority list. I have at least five other people, and I know you’re at the top of mine. Oh, and I think Natsumi would say hi if she could send me with a message.” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck, looking up at her with his one eye. 

 

“Tell her I say hi back, I guess.” She let out a quiet chuckle as she thought about Natsumi and whatever antics she was pulling to get away with this. “And both of you need to stay safe.”

 

“We will. So, um…” Now that he was there with her, Fuyuhiko had no idea what to say to her. He couldn't make his confession leave his throat, no matter how hard he tried, so he went for the next best thing. “How have you been?”

 

“I’ve been good.” Peko knew that in the old days, she would’ve just left it at that, but she knew that it was alright to tell him things. It was okay to be a person, even if it was hard. “I learned how to say no to things earlier today. That was interesting.”

 

“Really?” Fuyuhiko’s face lit up at that concept, at the fact that she was possibly starting to treat herself like a person who mattered.

 

“Really.” Peko confirmed with a nod, feeling proud of her achievement. Even if most people could do that from the moment they could talk, Peko had never been _allowed_ to figure it out until now. “You can test me, if you really want.”

 

“Hm…” He hummed as he tried to think of a good question to ask. Even if her face never gave much away, Fuyuhiko knew her expression well enough to know that she was eager to show off her new skill. “Do you want to run away and join a circus in Indonesia?”

 

Peko pretended to think about it for a second, able to tell that his offer was entirely a joke. “No.” There was half of a laugh in her voice because she had maintained her ability to refuse things over the past hour.

 

“Do you want to make one thousand fruit cakes?”

 

“Not particularly.”

 

“Go to Kansas and start a metal-country fusion band?”

 

“Absolutely not.” 

 

“Steal five thousand dogs from the shelter, teach them weird tricks, and make an extremely fluffy circus?”

 

“...No!” That was the question that caused her to dissolve into giggles, the sort he hadn’t heard since they were six, seven, eight, before her mentality was set in stone and Peko thought that she might have mattered. 

 

Fuyuhiko chuckled as well, mostly just because she was so happy that he couldn't help but be overjoyed, too. The whole world seemed soft and blurry around the edges, as if it was being recorded by a low-quality camera. Certain spots seemed to sparkle, like the silver of Peko’s hair and the puddle towards the end of the ally and the streetlight just a few feet away. Everything seemed so beautiful, like a painting had come to life in front of him except no artist would be able to properly capture the way Peko smiled when he praised her newly acquired skill. Fuyuhiko was so focused on the way she smiled that he didn't even realize exactly what he was saying.

 

“And how have you been?” Peko asked, a hint of a smile still on her lips.

 

“I’ve been alright, I guess. Not much has been happening. Natsumi’s concocting some grand plan to get herself expelled and our parents said that their next option is St. Bernadette’s, and I guess I’ll be pulled along with her.” Fuyuhiko shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about the whole affair.

 

“That’s where I go to school.” Peko said incredulously, adjusting her beanie.

 

“Really?” Fuyuhiko already knew that from researching, but he didn't want to seem excessively weird, even if the only reason he had done it was to try and find her after her disappearance. “Perfect! I guess I’ll see you in class by the end of the week with the rate Natsumi’s going at.” 

 

“Do they honestly not know that’s where I go to school?” Peko wondered, shaking her head to try and hide the fact that she was excited. Even if they couldn’t talk to each other openly at school, it would be enough to see Fuyuhiko and know that he was there and alive and mostly content.

 

“I guess not. They must not know a lot, huh?” Fuyuhiko stuck a hand in his pocket and that’s when he remembered the ribbons. “Oh, and if you want them, I have these.” He said, holding out the two white ribbons.

 

Peko’s face lit up when she saw the ribbons and she took them, her hand lingering on Fuyuhiko’s a little longer than necessary. “You kept them.” She whispered, in awe that someone thought highly enough of her to keep a reminder of her existence.

 

“Of course I did! I knew you liked them. It’s no big deal, really, anyone would’ve--”

 

“Thank you.” She interrupted, looking at him and putting them in her pocket. Peko took a step forward. She wanted to hug him, but she had never really initiated a hug before. Peko was always the person being coerced into it, never the one who was bold enough to make her intentions clear. But things were changing, and she was changing with them. “May I, um, may I hug you? If you don’t want to, that’s completely fine and I understand but--”

 

Fuyuhiko cut her off with a crushing hug, pulling her as close as possible. Peko hugged him back with equal intensity, leaning down slightly so that her head resting on his shoulder. Tears were welling up in her eyes because it was just so fantastic to see him again, to feel warm, tan skin beneath her own after laughing and talking and falling into a more comfortable version of their own ways. It was so perfect and Peko wondered if she deserved such nice things after all that she had done.

 

“I missed you.” Fuyuhiko whispered, his voice low and sweet in her ear. “More than I can ever say.”

 

“I missed you, too.” She said back. 

 

“What you did back in July...Don’t put yourself in danger like that again. Please. You could’ve _died_ , Peko, and if you died…” Fuyuhiko didn’t completely finish the thoughts with words, but Peko understood the sentiment.

 

“And you, too.” Peko closed her eyes and they said nothing, both of them thinking of a different alley on a day where the world was too bright and too hideous and almost surreal. But this was entirely real, this hug in the semi-darkness of Chicago where it seemed like they were the only two people of earth. They lapsed into a comfortable silence and Peko was just working up the nerve to say that she loved him, that she had loved him for so long, that she had loved him for as long as she could remember and even before that, but then his phone went off and he swore softly. They let go of each other and he checked his phone before rolling his eyes.

 

“It’s Mom.” He explained before picking up the phone. “Hey Mom...Yeah, yeah, I’m just waiting for Nats...No, I don’t know the chick, she’s from St. Bernadette’s or something...I don’t know! I guess she’s just preparing...No, I don’t think she’s a serial killer or anything, Mom…Mom, it’s Sakakura’s day off, remember? I thought Dad was sending one of his people...Well, I’m sure she’ll be a--Huh? What did you say? Oh, alright, I’ll come back with milk. Love you too, bye.” 

 

Peko smiled as she listened to the mundane phone call, even if it was from a world she could no longer be a part of. She took the ribbons out again and held them in one hand. With the other, she parted her hair down the middle and searched for hair ties in her pocket. She tied off the two sections and then started to braid them as he finished talking. As he said his goodbyes and confirmed that yes, he would pick up some bread too, he took the ribbons and tied them into neat little bows right on top of the ties, just like she always did. It was done almost absentmindedly, as if he hadn’t even thought about the casual display of affection and how much it meant to her, or he did think about it and he cared enough about her to show it. 

 

When Fuyuhiko ended the call, he looked up at Peko and sighed. “I have to go. Mom needs my help.”

 

“Okay.” Peko said softly, not really wanting him to leave but knowing that she couldn’t just keep him there forever. 

 

“Do you have like, a phone or something?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck as he watched her finish the braids.

 

“I do, but not right now. It was taken away. I got grounded, if you can believe it. I’ll tell you the whole story with that when we have time, but I’ll get it back next week.” Peko explained, watching his face drop at that news. He looked shocked, but Fuyuhiko didn’t have it in him to ask about it just then or scold her.

 

“Alright. Alright, can you just put your number in here? I promise that I won’t text you or anything until then and I won’t give it to Nat until then either, because I know she’ll forget about that.” Fuyuhiko promised as he handed her his phone. She nodded and entered her name and her number and then gave it back to him.

 

“Thanks. Oh, and one more thing. Mind if I take a picture? For the contact photo and all.” He asked, and Peko straightened up and nodded, trying to look as photogenic as possible. “Just relax your face and think about something you like. Like, a really cool bird or something.”

 

Peko didn’t think of a really cool bird or Junko Enoshima or any event in the past, but she thought about the future. She thought about becoming a doctor, about being able to be with Fuyuhiko, even if it was just as friends. She thought about having chess games with Kiyotaka and listening to Mondo’s motorcycle stories over coffee and having friends and family and a real, proper life that she never thought that she deserved. Fuyuhiko snapped the picture and then gave her a thumbs up. “Perfect. So, I guess I’ll see you soon.”

 

“Mhmm.” Neither one of them wanted to leave, but they somehow found it in them to leave the alley and go their separate ways. They both looked back occasionally and they both almost dissolved into childish laughter when they both looked at the same time, but eventually Fuyuhiko turned the corner and Peko entered Hope’s Peak and they were gone from each other’s sight, but not from their minds. 

 

***

 

Natsumi Kuzuryuu walked down the sidewalk, chewing bubblegum and checking her phone. It had been two days since she met with Junko and they danced around each other, both understanding that they were dangerous but also understanding that they couldn't sink their teeth into each other just yet. The very next day, she got herself expelled. Fuyuhiko gave her the scolding of a lifetime, but Natsumi knew what she had done was for the best. Her father left her covered in bruises, but Natsumi had laughed because there was so much he didn't know, so much he would never know and she had reached a point that he couldn’t hurt her. Sure, he could hurt her physically, but there was a corner of rebellion and hope in her mind that couldn’t be destroyed by him, or anyone for that matter. And that stubborn hope manifested itself into that walk to St. Bernadette’s as Fuyuhiko fretted about what they were going to do.

 

“I mean, we can't just say ‘Oh, we know her, we’ve known her for years’ and tell our whole life story and shit. But like, we can't _ignore_ her. What do I even say? What are you going to say? What are you going to do, huh?” 

 

“Not talk myself into a panic attack.” She teased, blowing a bubble and then buttoning up another button of her coat. “Relax, it’ll be fine. You and Peko have like, telepathy or whatever, so you’ll magically know what to do.” 

 

“That isn't an answer.” He muttered irritably. 

 

“Well, maybe we can catch her before she leaves and talk about it!” Natsumi suggested, pointing to a spot two blocks away. “That’s Hope’s Peak, isn’t it?”

 

“Yeah, but--”

 

“Then let’s go!” Natsumi took off running and Fuyuhiko followed, occasionally shouting profanities and trying to talk reason into a girl who regarded common sense like the average taxi driver regarded traffic laws. They were half a block away when a whole group of teens left the building, Peko among them. Junko was also in that group and glanced behind only to see Natsumi and Fuyuhiko. She didn’t know that Peko and Fuyuhiko had already met once again, and she saw it as the perfect opportunity to make Peko squirm.

 

“Natsumi! Hey!” She called out, beckoning for the group to stop and wait for the two blondes. Natsumi looked at the faces and tried to imagine who among them Peko would befriend. There was the infamous Komaeda, two boys who both had a piece of hair that stuck perpendicular out of their heads, a girl who looked half-asleep while she played a game on her DS, a boy with bubblegum-pink hair, a nervous girl who clung onto Junko’s arm, and a girl who had more colors in her hair than Natsumi could count. She couldn’t imagine Peko being friends with any of them, but then again, she supposed that none of them could imagine Peko being friends with her. 

 

“Junko!” She exclaimed, giving her a hug and acting like long-lost friends. “Guess who got expelled?”

 

“Hmmm...You?” Junko guessed. When Natsumi nodded, she shook her head and let out a laugh that was so obviously fake that Natsumi laughed, too. “Oh my god, what did you do?”

 

“The good officer said I ought to keep my mouth shut.” She said, playing pretend at being mysterious. “And if I _did_ tell you, I think Fuyuhiko would have a heart attack. Oh, this is Fuyuhiko, by the way. He’s my twin and a massive nerd.”

 

“Sup.” He waved before turning to Natsumi. “And I’m not a nerd!” 

 

“Yes you are~” She sang, looking around the group. “So, who’re your friends?”

 

“Right, introductions!” Junko grabbed one of Fuyuhiko’s hands and one of Natsumi’s before leading them into the throng, which had begun to move once more. “Well, the one with ugly hair that looks like marshmallow fluff, that’s Komaeda. He’s a fuckin’ weirdo.”  
“Hello!” He greeted, smiling at this introduction in a way that made both Kuzuryuu twins feel unnerved. “Pleased to make your acquaintance!”

 

“The pleasure is all yours.” Natsumi scoffed, remembering the day she punched him in the throat and exactly how annoying he was. This only made Komaeda laughed, which just pissed her off.

 

“I’m Hajime.” One of the guys with spiky hair introduced, the taller of them. “Nice to meet you. Oh, and that’s Chiaki, but she won’t notice you if she’s playing a game. Might be best to talk to her later.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Fuyuhiko said, deciding that Hajime seemed reasonable and that he would be a good person to ally himself with. Before he could work on that, Junko pulled them along. 

 

“Oooooh, who are you?” The girl with bright hair asked, placing a hand on her hip. 

 

“Natsumi Kuzuryuu, Meme Queen Supreme, as dubbed by Junnie.” She introduced, enjoying the subtle way that Junko cringed at the nickname. “And this is my brother. He’s lame.”

 

“Shut the fuck up, Nats.” Fuyuhiko said, rolling his eyes. 

 

“Well, this is Ibuki!” Junko said, unable to stand the attention not being on her. “And she’s talking to Mikan and Naegi!”

 

“H-hi.” Mikan stuttered out. Naegi just smiled and waved in a way that was so genuine that Fuyuhiko felt his chest tighten. There was such an obvious goodness about him that he knew that he must be close with Peko, that maybe he was dating Peko, and that thought caused him more pain than Fuyuhiko cared to admit.

 

“And that--” Junko said, letting go of their hands to gesture to the girl they both knew like the back of their hands and her pink-haired companion. “Is Lucy Pekoyama, but for some god-awful reason, everyone calls her Peko. Isn’t that a hideous name? She’s talking with Souda about something stupid, probably. He talks about the dumbest things.”

 

“Do not!” Souda defended, crossing his arms. “I was just telling Peko about that new car I saw on 34th Street, the one with the--”

 

“Don’t care!” Junko interrupted. She was watching Peko’s face, as was Natsumi. She had the look of someone who had just seen a ghost but was trying to hide it. 

 

“It was rather interesting.” She said, her voice soft and distant. It was then that Natsumi realized she was putting up an act, that she was pretending to be surprised by their arrival. Fuyuhiko looked like he reached this conclusion earlier, judging by the way he seemed perfectly nonplussed by the entire situation. 

 

“I’m sure it was.” He said, shrugging to add to the casual demeanor he was trying to give off. “Oh, I’m Fuyuhiko, by the way.”

 

“Nice to meet you, dude!” Souda said. “Do you want to hear about this car? Because I haven’t ever seen anything about it, this shit is absolutely crazy.”

 

Fuyuhiko looked at Peko, who nodded and gave him a quarter of a smile. “I’d love to.” 

 

And so he walked to school between the two, half focusing on what Souda was saying and half focusing on the fact that Peko’s hand was less than a centimeter away from his and if he really wanted to, he could “accidentally” brush his own hand against it. But for now, it was just enough to be with her, to breath the same air and listen to the same voice and talk about the same thing. No words were necessary to express the joy they both felt on that morning that was no different from any other in the grand scheme of things, and there were no words to properly it anyhow. 

 

***

 

Junko sat at her lunch table, picking at an apple and frowning intently at it. Something was up, something was going to happen, she just _knew_ it. This business with Peko and Fuyuhiko and Natsumi all sat wrong with her and if she allowed things to get much further, they would fall apart at the seams and her plan would collapse. If allowed Peko to have too much contact with the Kuzuryuus, she knew that they would water that seed of rebellion. One meeting was enough for her liking, one meeting was enough for her to accomplish what she wanted, and so it was time for her to end it. 

 

“We’re starting today.” Junko announced to her group, which consisted of Mikan and Komaeda. 

 

“Today?” Nagito asked, resting his chin in his hands and studying Enoshima, the horrid monster of a girl who he loved and hated more than anyone else.

 

“Today. Actually, right now.” She clarified. 

 

“Alright.” He said with a sigh as got up from his seat. He climbed up onto the table and all eyes in the cafeteria turned to him.

 

“Attention everyone, I have a very important announcement to make!” He declared, clearing his throat and standing up as straight as possible before pulling out a gun and pressing it to his chest. Komaeda watched with a wry smile as students screamed and Peko jumped up and started to run towards him, fully intending to wrestle the gun from his hands. He heard Hajime shout his name and watched him follow after the albino and watched Fuyuhiko in turn follow after him. The trio was just a foot away when Nagito chuckled softly and pulled the trigger.


	18. Aftermath of the Catalyst

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me, plotting this chapter: this will be easy!!!! intense, but short and simple!!!
> 
> Me, one week later, 6.5k words in and weeping about my iffy characterization and only writing half of what I planned for this chapter because it would be too long otherwise: i fuckin' lied my guys.
> 
> Anyways, here you go!

When the gun went off, three things happened at once.

 

The first was the obvious effect of a gun going off, and that was that a bullet was fired. This bullet lodged itself in Nagito Komaeda’s chest, just as he had planned and it landed exactly in the space between his heart and his lungs, just as he had planned and then he fell down on the cafeteria table and got blood on Junko Enoshima’s pretty schoolgirl skirt, just as he planned. So much had been left up to chance, and his luck saw him through it all. Everything hurt and Komaeda was bleeding and the cafeteria was plunged into utter chaos, but Nagito was smiling. It was even better than he ever could’ve imagined.

 

The second was a less obvious effect, but one that also was planned down to the very second. The gun went off, and that was the mental cue for Hajime Hinata to disappear and for Izuru Kamukura to re-appear. It had been agreed on months ago, when Junko’s plan got more fleshed out and Izuru realized he only had so long before all of the trauma and chaos got to him and he went back to being Hajime. He had developed enough sense to know when he would change into his default personality, but tragically, Hajime hadn’t quite figured out what would cause him to go to Izuru. They had time to come up with a signal, which was agreed upon by everyone involved in the plan at the time, and that signal was Nagito shooting himself in the chest. One second, everything was normal and Hajime Hinata was Hajime Hinata, and the next minute, everything switched and his legs went out from under him and soon Izuru Kamukura was on the floor after smacking his head off of the cafeteria table.

 

The third thing that happened wasn’t even an event, so much as it was a lack of event that Peko wouldn’t realize the significance of later. When Nagito shot himself and the bullet tore through his shirt, it showed off the tiny circle that had been illegally tattooed over his heart months and months ago. He missed it by half of a centimeter. And yet not one word passed his lips about how unlucky he was, about how his cycle of good and bad fortune had betrayed him, and if his mission truly was to die, Peko knew him well enough to know that would be the first thing out of his mouth.

 

So within a mere second, Komaeda was bleeding, people were screaming, and Hajime Hinata no longer existed in any way that mattered. The world was in utter chaos, but Peko Pekoyama didn’t even blink twice. If there was one thing she was used to, it was violence and chaos. 

 

“Fuyuhiko, please call 911.” She requested, her voice excessively formal and perfectly steady. He nodded and took out his phone, kneeling down to help up who he thought was Hajime Hinata. Peko kneeled on the cafeteria bench and pressed her hands down on Komaeda’s wound, not looking him in the eye and not seeming phased by the blood soaking her hands.

 

“Here! F-for the bleeding!” Mikan shoved a sweater into Peko’s hands and she nodded as she took it, removing her hands for less than a second to grab it and press it over the wound. Nagito was still laughing, but it wasn’t a cheerful laugh. It was a condescending, teasing laugh, the mocking “I know something that you don’t” obvious in his tone. It made Peko want to lift her hands and let him bleed a little more, but she didn’t.

 

“Stay with me, Komaeda, stay with me.” Peko said, repeating the phrase over and over in a low, steady voice. He eventually stopped laughing, but he showed no physical signs of pain. 

 

At some point, Izuru Kamukura made his way to the other side of the table and gently took the gun from Komaeda. He tried to give off the appearance of still being Hajime and pretended to be nervous about holding the gun, but his hands were steady as he unloaded the gun and pocketed the bullets before handing it over to the one lunch room monitor that wasn’t frantically evacuating students. To ensure that he wouldn’t be evacuated just yet, he held onto one of Komaeda’s hands. Izuru knew that eventually he would have to leave, but he wanted to put it off. It was interesting to see someone bleed. He had seen it before, of course, but never from a wound that he hadn’t inflicted himself 

 

While Peko put pressure on the wounds and Izuru adjusted back to the world, Fuyuhiko was swearing at a 911 operator. “What the fuck do you _mean_ , it’ll take twenty minutes for an ambulance to get here? I’ll go borrow someone’s car and drive him to the hos--No, of course I’m not _actually_ going to do that! What kind of fuckin’ idiot do you take me for? Just...Just tell them to hurry up, alright. He’s bleeding like crazy. Wait, shit, I don’t know. It certainly _looks_ like he has a pulse, um--Hey, Hinata!”

 

It took Izuru a second longer than it ought to have to realize that he was being spoken to. “Yeah?”

 

“Does he have a pulse?” Fuyuhiko asked, gesturing to Komaeda’s wrist.

 

Izuru moved his hand so that his pointer and middle fingers were pressed against the vein in his wrist and after counting for exactly fifteen seconds, he nodded. “I think I have a pulse here.”

 

“Yeah, there’s a pulse, and he’s definitely breathing. I can see his chest moving from here.” Fuyuhiko said into the phone, giving Hinata a thumbs-up as a sign of appreciation for taking his pulse.

 

Komaeda was now coherent enough to form sentences, and he could tell by the grip on his wrist that he was no longer looking at Hajime, but at Izuru. Izuru, who personified everything good and talented and hopefully in the world. Perfect, amazing Izuru was gripping onto him and looking down at him with the olive eyes of Hajime Hinata and he had never been happier in his life. “How lucky I am!” He exclaimed, giving Peko a glance and laughing at the concerned knit of her brows and the unwavering pressure she kept on his chest in an attempt to stop the bleeding that could never kill him. “I’m so incredibly lucky.”

 

Fuyuhiko desperately wanted to say something about how bullshit that statement was, but he could recognize that now was not the time to lecture Komaeda on being weird about luck. Peko confirmed this by looking over at him and rolling her eyes, tilting her head towards Nagito to indicate that he was the source of her frustration before she looked back at him. “Yes, you’re very lucky. It looks like you missed your heart by less than an inch.”

 

“That happened to you, too.” Komaeda noted, still laughing. “When you went in that alley to--Ouch!” His story was interrupted by Peko putting more pressure on his chest. 

 

“There was more blood.” She said dryly, giving him a look that just dared him to continue to see what would happen. High on his own recklessness, he dared to. 

 

“Back in the summer, when you went in that alley to protect Fuyuhi--”

 

“SHUT THE FUCK UP! I understand that you’re bleeding, but shut the fuck up. Just. Just shut the fuck up, man. Shut the fuck up.” Fuyuhiko interrupted, holding the phone away from his ear so that the operator wouldn’t hear him. “Shouldn’t you be like, passing out or some shit?”

 

“I already told you, Fuyuhiko.” Nagito said with half of a smirk on his face. “I’m very, very fortunate, and I’m blessed enough to stay conscious to see all three of you.”

 

Izuru said nothing to this, not surprised by his reaction to these events. He had no information on Fuyuhiko and Peko (all of those memories were beyond his reach) but he was able to guess that they had a relationship of some sort that was to be kept a secret. He was sure Junko would give him the exact details later. It was almost amusing to him, how keyed up both of them seemed about keeping him from bringing up whatever had occurred, but not quite. 

 

The ambulance arrived ten minutes after the gun went off. Komaeda was loaded on, still laughing maniacally. Fuyuhiko rested his head down on the lunch table before being pulled out by Izuru, who was pretending to be a concerned friend. It was sort of fun, to play pretend at caring about another person. Peko got stuck trying to figure out what to do with Mikan’s sweater, but eventually she determined that no amount of stain remover would get out that amount of blood and she promised her while they were in the auditorium, waiting to be dismissed due to the incident, that she would buy a new one. Peko thought Mikan smiled because she was offering to buy her a whole new sweater, but the reality was much different. She never would have guessed that Mikan was smiling because the end was soon and in the fact of the end, a measly sweater didn’t mean a damn thing. 

 

***

 

When the dismissal was formally announced by the principal, people immediately started filing out of the auditorium to walk to their respective homes. Kiyotaka got up and started looking around for the Kuzuryuu twins. Even if he never brought it up to Peko, Taka hadn’t forgotten the names of the people who had been her masters and he already determined that he wanted them kept very, very far from her. Certainly they would set her recovery back by miles, and he couldn’t afford to do that. Furthermore, he heard that the girl was now at St. Bernadette’s because she had been _expelled_ , which horrified him to the core. Kiyotaka was used to struggling to keep order in the school with the issues occasionally caused by Junko and rich boys who had too much money and too much time, but there had never been any expulsions or families with ties to the _mafia_. (Except for his own, and that was all over, he ensured of it). It was important that he had a discussion with them, and he wanted to do so as soon as possible.

 

“Taka, bro, what’s up?” Mondo asked, slinging an arm over his shoulder. Some of the tension left his shoulders when he did that and Kiyotaka couldn’t help but smile at him for a moment before returning his face to how it had been seconds before. 

 

“I need to find the Kuzuryuu twins.” He declared, moving so that he was at the auditorium doors so that he could see each person who left. “I need to have a...a discussion with them about Lucy.”

 

“I swear, I’m never gonna get used to calling her Lucy. It’s just so soft. I feel like whoever gave her that name had no idea how tough she was going to be.” Mondo muttered, but it seemed fitting the more he thought about it. After all, she doted after that cat and owned more ribbons than the average Disney princess. There was a bit of girlish softness to her, but that didn’t make her seem any less tough. “But yeah, I’ve been meaning to talk to them, too. Should we just do it together? I’m pretty damn sure we’ll be saying the same thing.”

 

Kiyotaka thought about it for a minute, but then nodded. “Yes, I do believe we would have similar statements. It would save time to do it together.” He didn’t want to admit that he was glad to have backup when dealing with these strangers who he blamed for ruining the early years of Peko’s life, but Mondo understood and ruffled his hair before letting go of him. 

 

It was easy to spot the Kuzuryuu twins in the crowd. Natsumi was loud and obvious clearly new and was somehow already joking about what had happened. Kiyotaka couldn’t believe how disrespectful she was, but he held his tongue and took a deep breath and reminded himself that not everyone dealt with things the same way. Next to her was most likely her brother, Fuyuhiko, and Kiyotaka was something shocked. He expected him to be taller, but he looked like he was barely over five feet. It was strange to think about someone so small ordering Peko around and making her do awful, horrible things. 

 

“Excuse me.” Kiyotaka said as he approached the duo, keeping his back straight. “My name is Kiyotaka Ishimaru, member of the student council. I need to have a word with both of them.”

 

Natsumi and Fuyuhiko both stopped and looked at him before looking at each other. They both remembered the name Ishimaru from their research and from their dealings with the family and both glared at him. Fuyuhiko hadn’t actually seen Kiyotaka, but he had heard enough about him from Takaaki that he was almost certain that he wouldn’t like him. Plus, there was a chance he was related to Peko and he was upset that the family hadn’t even bothered to look for her. As for Natsumi, her thought process was similar, but with the added bonus of being personally offended by the state of Kiyotaka’s eyebrows. She was tempted to pull tweezers from her purse and go to town, but somehow, she managed to restrain herself. They both silently decided to hear him out, if only just to have something to complain about together that didn’t involve watching someone shoot themself in the chest in front of at least one hundred people.

 

“Alright, shoot.” Fuyuhiko said, sticking his hands in his pocket. Natsumi tugged at her tie, which felt like it was strangling her and she was tempted to just take the damn thing off. 

 

“Please follow me. I believe this area is a bit crowded and it would be more advantageous if we had more space.” His tone was ridiculously formal and Natsumi snickered at him before they followed. She poked Fuyuhiko and gestured to her leg, where she always kept the butterfly knife she had just threatened Ryouta with days before, silently trying to tell him that there was no need to worry about them being attacked. He nodded once and cracked his knuckles, the popping sound offering a strange comfort, especially when Mondo joined their party. 

 

Eventually, the four of them ended up in an empty classroom and Natsumi hopped up on one of the desks, stretching out her legs and yawning. “What do you fuckers need? I have lots of stuff to do when I get home, you know, so make it snappy.”

 

“Such language is not suitable for a school enviroment, Miss Kuzuryuu! And please remove yourself from that desk! Sitting in such a manner is not appropriate.” He scolded on instinct, which made Mondo sigh. Natsumi didn’t move, resisting the order just because she could.

 

“Chill out, bro.” Oowada said, leaning on another desk. “We’re here to talk about Peko Pekoyama.”

 

Upon hearing the name, Fuyuhiko spoke up. “What about Peko Pekoyama?” He asked, trying to figure out exactly how much they knew and how much he should give away.

 

“Lucy is my half-sister.” Kiyotaka said, and Fuyuhiko silently reminded himself to give Natsumi a twenty later. He had thought the articles were just a conspiracy theory. “Her name is Lucille Pekoyama, and I know exactly who you are and what you’ve done to her. She did not tell me these things, but they were discovered by my grandfather. I understand that our families do have a very...a very tenuous alliance and that adding to tensions would not be beneficial from a financial standpoint, but I will not stand for you causing any backslides in her health! If you do, I’ll...I’ll…”

 

“I’ll beat the shit out of you.” Mondo said, no hint of joking in his voice. “Kiyotaka will probably just keep you from talking to her, but hurt that girl and I’ll beat the shit out of you. You’ve already hurt her enough with all that you made her do.”

 

“I didn’t do shit!” Natsumi exclaimed, sitting up and glaring at the two strangers. “Didn’t you say that you did your research? If you did, you would know that! It was our parent’s idea to turn her into a hitwoman for the sake of the family, it was their idea to make her into a tool, it was their idea to treat her like shit. All Fuyuhiko and I did was love her! God, Peko’s like my _sister_. She’s one of the only friends I’ve ever had! I would never hurt her. Never! And Fuyuhiko...Jesus Christ on rollerblades while carrying the fuckin’ cross on his back, don’t even get me _started_ on how much Fuyuhiko loves her. They’re basically married at this point.”

 

“Natsumi!” He interrupted, his face turning red at that comment. Fuyuhiko took a deep breath before continuing to speak. “Look, I get where you’re coming from and shit, you’re worried about Peko. So are we. I’ve known her for my whole life and I...Man, I just care about her. A lot. And I don’t appreciate you dragging Nats and I in here and accusing us of things, but you’re Peko’s family, so I’m not gonna flip shit on you yet, mostly because you’re not the one who left her on the street. The ones that did that are getting no mercy from me. Anyways, my point is that I would throw myself off of a fuckin’ bridge before I would hurt Peko, alright? And if she doesn’t want to see me, that’s her decision to make. I get that you’re trying to protect her, but it’s _her decision_. I think she’s had enough of other people making decisions for her, don’t you?” 

 

Neither Kiyotaka or Mondo had considered that in the mad rush of figuring out that they were at the school and within her sights, but they both contemplated it now and fell silent. Natsumi turned and grinned at her brother, proud of his quick thinking.

 

“I hadn’t thought about it like that.” Mondo said, running his hand through his hair. “We both were just so focused on trying to make sure she didn’t get hurt and--”

 

“Her mental health was so fragile for a while that we just--”

 

“And after she got shot--”

 

“And my grandfather--”

 

The twins watched them trip over their words and Natsumi almost wanted to laugh, but she held her tongue. “A simple apology would do.” She said, a smirk on her face. 

 

“Of course!” Kiyotaka stood up straight and ducked his head respectfully. “My sincerest apologies to you and your brother! I was inconsiderate and rude, and I hope that I may earn your forgiveness!”

 

“Ditto, but like, less formally than that.” Oowada chimed in.

 

“Hmmm...I have gracefully decided to accept your apology. Fuyu?” All three of them turned to Fuyuhiko, who shrugged. 

 

“Yeah, whatever, you two are fine. Glad to see that you’re out of that gang though, Oowada. Those guys were total bastards. And Ishimaru, your family is treating her well, yeah?” Fuyuhiko looked up at the boy who was so obviously related to Peko, who shifted uncomfortably at that question. 

 

“My mother--her stepmother--and I both get along well with Peko, and she is beginning to patch things up with our father. They got off to a very bad start, you see, but he was just trying to do what was best for the family. I think he realizes the error of his earlier ways. As for her mother, I can’t say that I know. All I know is that she runs some sort of blog and talks about Lucy quite a bit on there. I’m unsure if she knows about it and if she’s comfortable with it.” Kiyotaka realized as he spoke that he probably could’ve just answered with a yes or a no, but he figured that proof would help them. “And before I forget, I understand that Miss Kuzuryuu--”

 

“Natsumi. Seriously, no need to be all formal and weird about it.” She interrupted. 

 

“Either way, I understand that you caused quite a lot of issues back at your old school and I will not allow such things to go on here! We are a respectable school with respectable people and I will not allow any incidents like those that occurred in your old school to occur here.” He warned, sounding as stern as possible. Natsumi would’ve been scared if she was able of feeling fear for anything that didn’t directly affect her family. 

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I guess I’ll catch you nerds later. Nats is out.” She hopped off the desk, gave Mondo and Kiyotaka finger guns, and backed out of the room and directly into a wall. She swore loudly and turned away before high tailing it down the halls. 

 

“I’m glad Peko is at least doing well.” Fuyuhiko said with a sigh, following after Natsumi. After that, the room was just Mondo and Kiyotaka, who were looking at each other in silence.

 

“I think that went well. Neither one of them have any sense of decorum, but I still think it went well.” Kiyotaka declared after a moment, which made Mondo burst out into laughter. The sound made it very hard for Kiyotaka not to kiss him, but he resisted.

 

***

 

Just as anyone could’ve predicted, Hope’s Peak was in a state of chaos, which was just perfect for Junko’s plan. Nothing like a public suicide attempt to create enough of a distraction for her plan to be carried about. She sat in her room, waiting for the arrival of her co-conspirators (excluding Komaeda, of course).

 

The first were the children. Masaru sprawled out on her bed as comfortably as if it were his own and Kotoko followed him, but not before tackling him and complaining that he was hogging to covers. Nagisa scolded them from the wall that faced the window and Jataro busiest himself with wheeling Monaca to the bed and helping her get positioned so that she was next to Junko.

 

“Okay guys, let’s just go over things one more time!” Junko said, putting on the front of immense cheerfulness and love that she tried to keep at her core when it came to dealing with them. “Let’s start with Nagisa. What are you supposed to do?” She gave him a look that said “I know you know, but humor them. I know you’re smart, the smartest person in this room, and I trust you.” It didn't matter that she didn’t mean it. What mattered was that Nagisa thought that she did, and that’s all that mattered.

 

“Once you have everything together, you give me the blackmail stuff and the weapons, and I’m supposed to organize all of it. Small weapons for large blackmail to cause panic, big weapons for small blackmail to create false confidence.” He said obediently, reflecting on the plan that she had told him. He would do the bundles for everyone, but he would hide the ones for Jataro and Masaru and Kotoko. They were his friends, but they needed to go in order to start making their great society. He and Monaca would hide out just outside and watch and wait as their new world was born. That was what Junko said to them, and to go against what Junko said would result in death. The one time he had dared to try, she had grabbed him by the neck and told him to ask her sister what happened to those who defied him. Nagisa visited the grave the next day and swore to himself that he would follow Junko anywhere, lest he end up dead before he could finish his grand plans. 

 

“Good!” Junko beamed at him with pride and Nagisa beamed back. “Masaru, what are you supposed to do?”

 

“I’m supposed to put them in the boy’s rooms! I have to do it really fast while Chisa and Monomi and whoever are making their dumb speeches about Nagito being dumb to you guys.” He said, frowning for a second when he forgot exactly when he was supposed to do it, but his face lit back up when he remembered. He was excited by the concept of doing something like this with his friends, to be the hero who kept them together and watched the evil adults and corrupted teenagers tear at each other’s throats. He and Jataro and Kotoko all thought that same exact thing and each wouldn’t dare to question it. Not only was it right and good and perfect, but Junko said that she wasn’t afraid to make them disappear if she needed to. The threat was more subtle than the one given to Nagisa, but that was all they needed. 

 

“And I’m supposed to do that for the girl’s rooms! Then Masaru and I are supposed to lock every door and window and throw all the keys in the dumpster right before the garbage man takes them away.” Kotoko chimed in, fixing her pigtails and glancing up at Junko.

 

“Exactly! And Jataro?” She turned to the masked boy, who had taken to staying against the wall with Nagisa. 

 

“I...uh, I have to perfect the cover story. We’re supposed to all be at the...The park with my parents, right? And I have to edit one of Kotoko’s selfies so that it looks like that’s where we are...And put it on her Instagram with the timestamp and all so that it’s more convincing.” Jataro stuttered his way through his explanation, tugging at his mask as he did so.

 

“Perfect.” Junko gave him a softer smile than the ones she gave out to Nagisa, Masaru, and Kotoko, but she knew that it was the best way to get through to him. “And Monaca?”

 

“I don’t do anything! I just make sure everything’s set up at my house so we can watch!” Monaca said, resting her head on Junko’s shoulder. She knew that the other four were all being lied to, but what she didn’t know was that she was being lied to as well. She believed that it was just her that would be saved and allowed to watch, but if all went according to Junko’s plan, Monaca would be kidnapped for further distraction from her plan and then killed. Junko loved Monaca so much that the only thing she could do was torture her to death, and the very thought of it made her so happy that she kissed Monaca’s forehead and ruffled her hair.

 

“That’s very important, Monaca!” Junko corrected. “Now you five have to go back, I have to talk to some more people who aren’t supposed to know you’re involved in all of this, yeah?”

 

There was a chorus of “See you later!” and “I’m so excited!” and “Love you, big sis!” as they all left, and it warmed Junko’s heart to imagine them saying the same things as they bled out in the hallways of the hotel-turned-halfway house. 

 

***

 

After the children was young, sweet Chihiro Fujisaki. Junko had no illusions of them liking her. What she did was straight up blackmail, holding their father’s life over their head. In all reality, Junko didn’t really know where their father was, but she had been able to hold a lookalike hostage for long enough to convince Chihiro. They entered her room, standing in the doorway and fiddling with their hands. 

 

“Hey, Chihiro!” She cooed, laughing at the fact that they were crying, wiping their tears with the back of their hand. 

 

“H-hey. Um, I just wanted...I wanted to make sure that I…” Chihiro wasn’t sure exactly what they were trying to say, but they didn’t stop trying to say it until Junko got up from her bed and wrapped them up in a bone-crushing hug.

 

“You’re supposed to cut everything. The electricity, the internet connection, the phone lines, the security system, all of it. You’ve already figured out how to, right?”

 

“R-right. And you want this done…?” They asked, trying to step away from the hug but fully unable to, not when Junko was digging her nails into their back and holding them so tight that they couldn’t take a deep breath.

 

“Three minutes into the meeting about Nagito’s attempt. There’ll be a thing on it on Friday, once things have calmed down a bit.” She said, her voice confident and cold and utterly terrifying. Chihiro wanted to run away, wanted to hide in their room and never emerge, but Junko just held them tighter and tighter until they feared they were going to burst. “And remember what’s at stake here, hm?” Junko reminded, and Chihiro let out a noise halfway between a sob and a laugh.

 

As if they could forget.

 

***

 

After Chihiro was Ibuki, who paced her room like a caged animal as her hands shook. Withdrawal was a powerful thing, and Junko fully planned to use that to her advantage.

 

“Are you sure you want to do this _now_? Really, really super sure? Super-duper mega sure? Because like, I think we should wait until maybe we can get Peko, she could be really helpful with all of this, Peko-Peko is such a good and loyal friend and I know what happened on Monday wasn’t good but--”

 

“Ibuki.” Junko was able to silence her with just one work, and she revealed in that power. She held out her arms and Ibuki sunk into her hug and let Junko pepper her with kisses all over her face and stick a needle in her arm. The relief was almost instantaneous and Ibuki’s whole body relaxed. 

 

“Now. Now is the time.” Junko said confidently, running her hands through Ibuki’s multi-colored hair. “How else will I know who’s loyal to me? How else can I test it?”

 

Ibuki was under the impression that it was just for a scare tactic, that Junko wasn’t _actually_ going to kill everyone, she just wanted to make it seem like it was so that the world would understand just how screwed up everything was, how close to ruin they were and how much help they truly needed that life just wasn’t going to give them. Still, the idea of getting caught freaked her out. Even more anxiety inducing was Junko’s promise that not following orders would result in her being blacklisted by every drug dealer in town and any attempt to buy would result in her being given a batch that would kill her within the minutes. Ibuki didn’t doubt Junko’s connection.

 

“I know.” She said softly. “But still, I’m scared.”

 

“There’s nothing to be scared of.” Junko got out another needle and plunged it into Ibuki’s arm, waiting for enough of it to take effect that she would go along with everything. “Now, tell me again, what are you supposed to do?”

 

“I’m supposed to go get the weapons that are stashed on the north side of the city and give them to you.” Ibuki recited. “I’m supposed to get them to you tomorrow.”

 

“Good! Now let’s stop thinking about that, yeah?” She suggested, and Ibuki heartily agreed. As Junko kissed her, Ibuki couldn’t help but think about her friends that didn’t know, about how Peko would fret in that quiet way she always did and how Chiaki’s eyes would become focused and terrified and about Hajime, who she still believed was Hajime, and how he would start trying to find answers to hide his own nerves and the fact that he would forget everything like he always did under immense pressure. They would be scared, and Ibuki felt awful about that, but it would all be okay in the end. She had to believe that it would be. 

 

***

 

Ibuki left after a good makeout session and in came Hiyoko and Mahiru, hand in hand. They were told the same thing as Ibuki, that it was just a joke to let the public know about their struggles, and since Junko said it, they believed it. She had never lied to them. She never would lie to them. 

 

“East and west, you two.” Junko said, smirking over at them. “East and west for tomorrow, yeah?”

 

“Of course!” Hiyoko exclaimed, not feeling bold enough to mention the blackmail that Junko was holding over her head about her grandparents, the only relatives who had ever loved her who would mysteriously pass away if she spoke about it.

 

“We’ll bring them right here.” Mahiru said, not feeling bold enough to mention the blackmail hanging over her head, either. The things she would do for her mother were limitless, and one simple prank seemed trivial on that list.

 

“Perfect! See you tomorrow, then! I have so much to do with Mikan, ugh.” Junko complained for half an hour about Mikan and her unwillingness to cooperate, which was untrue but would convince them that she trusted them, that they were close to her. It wasn’t true at all, but they didn’t need to know that. And in the end, Junko knew that they didn’t _want_ to know that. Lies were much easier to swallow.

 

***

 

Mikan stopped in for less than half of a second before Junko shooed her away, only saying “Izuru is coming! Come back later!” which was enough to get Mikan, lonely, ever-clingy Mikan, to hit the hills.

 

Izuru Kamukura walked into the room and leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms over his chest and glaring at Junko. “What have I missed?”

 

“Well, what have you figured out?” Junko asked, giving him a smile that looked positively lovesick.

 

“My name is Hajime Hinata. Or at least, the main me is named Hajime Hinata. I have a history of forgetting things under immense stress. He is friends with Nagito, apparently. He’s also close with Chiaki. I don’t know if they’re dating, but the main me seems to hold some romantic feelings for her. She’s nice enough, I suppose. He could do a hell of a lot worse.” Izuru gave Junko a pointed look when he said that, which made her laugh.

 

“Zu-Zu, you’re so _mean_! But do go on.” She gestured for him to continue, which he did, after a quick “Don’t call me Zu-Zu.”

 

“He seems to have friendly relations with everyone. He has no relation to the Naegi siblings, despite the hair. He’s even friendly with the Kuzuryuus, who are new to the school, but not Hope’s Peak residents. The boy, Fuyuhiko, he has some relation to a Hope’s Peak girl. I haven’t yet figured out her name and I don’t care to. She’ll be dead soon, anyways. There are other relations that are notable. Oowada, the gangster you mentioned a few months back, seem to have romantic intentions towards a member of the student council. Mikan has grown almost obsessive about you. There are more, but you didn’t come here to have me list of everyone’s relationships. You came here for this.” Izuru uncrossed his arms to take a folder from his uniform’s jacket and tossed it to Junko. She opened it up and grinned at all of its contents. It was all the blackmail she needed, a decent motive for everyone here.

 

“Finally! This is good stuff, Zu-Zu. I already got things for the people that arrived while you were Hajime, so now you just have to sit back and relax!” She grinned up at Izuru, who was thoroughly unamused by her. “Now come here and kiss me.”

 

“No.” He said, rolling his eyes at her.

 

“Do it!” She demanded, and Izuru just stood there and watched as she ranted and raved about how she just wanted him to kiss her, about how she just wanted everyone to die beautifully, about how she wanted so many things and would never get them and about how despair inducing it all was. It was half pitiful and half terrifying, but it didn’t cause either emotion in him. 

 

“You’re quite bothersome, Enoshima.” He noted when she finished her tantrum. 

 

“Yes, but you love me.” Junko stretched out on her bed and smirked. Izuru chuckled at that, not because it was funny or amusing but because he felt compelled to.

 

“If you loved me, you would have murdered me by now.” He stated simply, and Junko laughed at that. Her laughter did stir an emotion in him, something that was akin to disgust but masked by a heavy layer of boredom.

 

“Why are you going alone with this, Izuru? I have blackmail, all those people I made you kill a few months back, but I know that you know I would be the one getting in trouble for it. After all, I had you at gunpoint for most of it.” She was hoping for him to say that her message of despair had rooted its way into her heart, but she knew that it didn’t. Still, feeling despair was fun, so she pumped herself up and then got crushed as he answered.

 

“Because it’s interesting.” He said as he left. “For once in my life, things might finally be interesting.”

 

***

 

Meeting with Mikan was fun and easy. Junko didn’t even have to speak, Mikan just kissed her and said what they had to do and told her she was beautiful and perfect and wonderful. Junko pretended to be upset and then pretended comforted by her words before going onto business.

 

“We’re getting the weapons from the south side tonight.” Junko declared, getting up from her bed and changing. “Let’s go. But first, where’s Peko at?”

 

“The hospital. She’s staying with Komaeda. He’s so pathetic that nobody else wants to!” Mikan laughed, because he was so loveless and she knew so much of love, all thanks to Junko.

 

“Good. We’ll go pick her up and then we have one thing left to do.” She finished getting dressed and smiled at her reflection. She was so pretty and so clever and about to burn down her entire world, and Junko had never felt happier in her life.

 

“What are we doing?” She asked, a smile on her face because she knew that if it was done with Junko, it was bound to be amazing.

 

Junko turned and gave her a smirk, one of the ones that shook Mikan to her very core and made her melt. “We’re going to the Kuzuryuu’s.”


	19. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I wrote this chapter in four days I love Christmas break. It ends tomorrow, though :/ Anyways, enjoy the chapter and let me know what you think!

Peko didn’t even bother to change out of her school uniform before going to the hospital. She didn’t stop to gossip about what she had seen or what Komaeda said and did after being shot. She had one mission, and that was to make sure that he didn’t wake up alone or wake up to the noise of someone else crying. To her great irritation, nobody seemed willing to help her with this endeavor. Nobody wanted to visit Komaeda because nobody _liked_ him.

 

“You didn’t like me, either.” Peko said when Hiyoko openly admitted her reason for not going, and the reason that everyone else had.

 

“Yeah, but you were new. You were _interesting_. Back then, everyone still thought you had half of a chance of being cool or being a friend. Now we know that you’re an awful bitch, but we didn’t know that _then_. Komaeda...We already know about Komaeda, so going is useless.” Saionji complained, wrinkling her nose at Peko. She didn’t dignify that statement with a response. 

 

The hospital waiting room was cold and so white that she could feel it burning her retinas, but Peko stayed in a plastic chair close to the door and waited without complaint. She didn’t like Komaeda either, but she didn’t hate him enough to force him to wake up alone. She figured that Hajime and Chiaki felt the same, but she hadn’t been able to find them. Peko watched people file in and out of the doors, nurses who looked like they needed a break and doctors who were too stressed to see straight and crying family members whose sobs echoed around the whole room. In the midst of all of that madness, Peko was still and silent and unmoved by the histrionics. Perhaps there should have been the urge to cry, but she only had the urge to help, to get up and fix all of the problems she saw. She wanted to force a nurse to take her chair and get some coffee, she wanted to help the doctors pour over the mess of charts to figure it all out, she wanted to be able to offer information to the family members in despair, but there was nothing to be done except wait.

 

“Um, Mr. and Mrs. Komaeda?” A nurse called out, and Peko got up from her chair and approached. She raised an eyebrow at the teen, twirling her pen around her fingers.

 

“They’re dead, and Nagito has doesn’t have any siblings or anything. I’m his cousin.” Peko lied easily, mostly because the first two statements were true. HIs parents were dead and as far as Peko knew, he didn’t have any siblings. They looked similar enough to pass for cousins, though, so she doubted the nurse would call her out on it. 

 

“Oh, alright sweetie. And where are your parents?” She asked, giving her a look something like pity that made Peko want to hide or hit her over the head with her own clipboard. 

 

“They didn’t come.” Peko said with a shrug. 

 

“Well, alright. Um, he’s awake. We’re going to keep him overnight just to make sure he’s stable, but after that, we have to transfer him to suicide watch for three days. Then a judge will rule on whether or not he’s a danger to himself and things will move on from there. Let me take you to him, yeah? I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.” The nurse didn’t stop giving Peko that pitying look as she lead her through a maze of identical hallways, which she could only distinguish from each other based on the numbers on the door. The room Nagito was in was small and Peko couldn’t help but pause as she saw him connected to a tangle of wires. He looked ungodly pale and it was hard to distinguish where he ended and the sheets began.

 

“Nagito? Your cousin’s here.” The nurse announced, and Nagito sat up from the bed. His face lit up when he saw Peko and realized that she had lied in order to see him and he all but started bouncing up and down. 

 

“Peko! Peko, you’re here!” He declared, holding out his arms and Peko realized that if she wanted to keep the charade up, she had to hug him. Even if it was uncomfortable with all of the wires and the fact that she wasn’t much for physical contact, Peko managed to give him a hug.

 

“I’m here.” She confirmed, turning to where the nurse was and noticing that she left. Peko sighed softly and sat down in one of the plastic chairs by the bed. 

 

“Why?” He asked, almost pulling out one of the IVs as he moved. 

 

“Because I didn’t want you to wake up alone.” Peko said, realizing how strange and stupid it sounded out loud, but it was too late to take it back.

 

Nagito smiled at that and tears welled up in his eyes. “I’m so lucky…So lucky to have such a good friend.”

 

“More than that, you’re lucky to be alive.” Peko reminded, looking at the bandages that covered his chest. 

 

He chuckled, fussing with a hangnail on his finger. “That’s one way to look at things.”

 

She nodded at his words, unsure exactly what else there was to say to Komaeda after all that happened. “It is. Maybe you’ll have time to think about it on suicide watch.”

 

“Suicide...Suicide watch?” Nagito’s face dropped as he spoke, trying to make sense of the phrase. 

 

“Suicide watch. That’s what the nurse told me. You have to be put on suicide watch for three days after--”

 

“NO!” He interrupted, trying to get up from the bed and failing. “No, there’s too much to do. I can’t go, I can’t be...No! The luck wasn’t supposed to work like this, I need to help plan--I can’t believe, my luck is--No, no, no, this is what she _wanted_. I’m going to miss the Great Hope! Peko, I’m going to miss it! The first building block on the way to the Great Hope, the Great Despair...Peko, you have to break me out of here. You have to! I can’t afford to miss this. I can’t”

 

The more Komaeda spoke, the faster his words became and the more frantic he looked and the more worried Peko became. “What are you going to miss, Nagito?” She asked, putting extra effort into keeping her voice soft and steady.

 

“The building block to the Great Hope! The Great Hope that will overcome all of this world’s despair. The beginning part...I’m going to miss the most essential step alll because of _her_. This is...I can’t believe I realized it this late! This is what she planned! God, I fucking hate her!” The last sentence came out as an animalistic roar and he got up from the bed, kicked one of the machines, screamed in pain, and then nearly fell. Peko caught him and a team of nurses came in. 

 

“No, get away from me! Get out of here! I need to keep talking to Peko! Get the fuck out of here! GET OUT!” He shrieked, flailing his arms and struggling away from a nurse with a needle, who was saying something about how he would be okay if he just kept his arm still and let her give him this medication. 

 

“Nagito, who is she? What’s the first step?” Peko asked, and he went limp at her words. That allowed the nurse to get the needle in his arm and he relaxed even more as he got carried back to the bed. 

 

“Before the Great Hope...A Great Despair. A Great Despair. It’ll be so hideous, so _unsightly_...but he'll make it beautiful. I believe in him. He’ll stop that despair and make a Great Hope. Wait until you see it, Peko. Just wait.” His words started to slur together as the medication began to take effect. 

 

Peko had so many questions, but she figured it would be best to start with the person who would supposedly bring this Great Hope. Maybe they could help her. “Who is this person? The boy, who is he?”

 

“Izuru.” Nagtio told her, drawing out each syllable. “Izuru Kamukura.”

 

After that he fell unconscious and there truly was nothing left to be said.

 

***

 

Junko and Mikan stole a car from a parking garage a few minutes from Hope’s Peak and Junko drove to the hospital, unable to stop giggling. They would return it to the garage soon enough, but for the night, it was needed. Junko drove too fast and nearly got them killed multiple times, not because she was a bad driver but because she liked to take risks. It was fun to think about how despairingly awful it would be if she died in a car crash right now, it was fun to hear Mikan’s nervous little squeaks as they drove to the hospital. They exited the car, giggling as they walked through the hospital and making a general nuisance of themselves.

 

It wasn’t hard to find Peko. The head nurse recalled seeing her head towards the gift shop a half an hour ago, and knowing how bad she was at making decisions, Junko figured that she was still there. She figured correctly. Peko was hidden amongst the rows of flowers and stuffed animals and key chains, frowning intently at a few bouquets. If she noticed them enter, she didn’t change her face to reflect this.

 

“Hey, Peko!” Junko said, slinging an arm around her shoulder. “Why are you looking at gifts? Got a boy we don’t know about? Or maybe a girl? I don’t care either way, but I can’t imagine your dad being too happy.” She joked, laughing loudly and directly into Peko’s ear. She had to suppress the urge to wince and move away.

 

“No, I’m just trying to find something for Komaeda. The hospital room is dreary and I fear I upset him quite a bit.” Peko admitted, shrugging both to express her emotions and to get Junko’s arm off of her shoulder.

 

“Oh no! W-what happened?” Mikan asked, her face turning to that of concern. 

 

“I was left to break the news to him that he would be on suicide watch starting tomorrow and he didn’t exactly take it well. He started going off about missing the Great Hope and kept mentioning someone named Izuru Kamukura.” She sighed as she recalled the incident, picking a petal from a sunflower before turning to her two companions. “Have you ever heard that name?”

 

Mikan and Junko looked at each other and Peko was able to pick up a glimmer of fear of Mikan’s face. Junko was good at keeping her face stable, but Mikan wasn’t quite so good at it and it gave away to Peko that they did know something. “N-no, I haven’t.” Mikan said, pulling at the hem of her skirt. “It’s odd that Komaeda would have a friend outside of Hope’s Peak.”

 

“It’s odd that he would have a friend anywhere.” Junko scoffed, picking at her nails. “But nope, I don’t know an Izuru Kamukura.”

 

Peko knew that at least Mikan was lying, and it was safe to assume that Junko was, too. She frowned at them, trying to figure out why they would deny knowing him and why Komaeda avoided saying his name for so long. The whole thing left her uneasy, especially when she recalled Komaeda referring to it all being the plan of an unnamed female he hated more than anything, and even if they were an on-again off-again item, she had never seen him look at someone with as much hatred as he looked at Junko Enoshima with. It always left her reeling, the times she found them together, and she could understand none of it. Even now, she couldn’t quite get it. She was just at the precipice of understanding the situation and its gravity, but she couldn’t quite make the leap yep.

 

“Uh, Lu-Lu? Are you okay? You’ve been staring at that wall for like, five minutes.” Junko intoned, grabbing her arm and digging her nails in. 

 

“Yes, I’m fine. I was just thinking.” Peko said, shaking her head to try and focus herself back into reality. 

 

“Alright! Well come on, get in the car! We grabbed you some clothes so that we don’t have to go back to Hope’s Peak and you don’t have to be seen in that hideous uniform. We’re going out.” She declared, dragging the two girls out of the gift shop, not even giving them a choice in the matter. It was easier than Peko would have ever wanted to admit, to fall right back into following Junko, but it left her feeling queasy. 

 

“You don’t have a car.” She said as they approached the parking garage. 

 

“We, uh, we borrowed it!” Mikan said. “From one of Mondo’s friends!”

 

Peko doubted that story, but there was too much running through her head for her to care about the specifics of how they got the car. She hopped into the back and quickly changed out of her uniform and into the clothes that Junko and Mikan brought for her. They were nice--/too/ nice for just a simple night out--and she felt uneasy as she got dressed and re-braided her hair and tied it with the white ribbons that she was given from Fuyuhiko and the black ones that Junko had given her months ago. She felt exposed and uncomfortable, trying and failing to act as she normally did as Junko drove them through Chicago. 

 

“Where are we going?” Peko asked when they passed the last of their usual hangouts, the worry on her face becoming more obvious. 

 

“A friend’s house! You remember Natsumi from this morning, right? Well, she said I could come over if I wanted and bring friends, and Hope’s Peak is a hell of a mess right now. God, Peko, what they’re saying about you would make your hair curl! I know that you’re just a compassionate and kind soul, but the theories about why you rushed to Komaeda’s bedside are less than flattering.” Junko rambled on, smirking when she noticed the way Peko stiffened up at the news that they were going to Natsumi’s house. Mikan almost giggled as well, but she managed to hold back. 

 

“Junko’s been defending you, though! S-Saoinji was saying stuff and Junko just...Just let her have it! It was so brave.” Mikan fawned over Junko’s imaginary heroics, which made Junko blush and pretend to be flattered. 

 

“Aw shucks, Mi-Mi! You’re too cute.” Junko briefly switched into the overly-cute personality, the one that made Peko want to gag, before returning to her default expression. “Anyways, we’re going to the Kuzuryuu’s house. I’ve heard stories about that place. Supposedly it’s like a palace! You’ll love it, I’m sure, princess that you are. You’ll feel right at home!”

 

The concept of returning to that house that was once her home, seeing those people that were once her masters, walking through the halls that she thought would always be hers not as a tool, but as a person, terrified Peko to her very core. There was no way that the Kuzuryuu’s wouldn’t notice her, there was no way that Natsumi wouldn’t get in trouble for this. Hell, she didn’t even know if Natsumi knew she was coming, but it would be seen as another one of her grand plans. “Hm.” That was all Peko was able to say, beginning to feel her mind shut down the closer they got to the estate. She didn’t know how she was going to force words out of her throat, how she was going to look at her old masters and pretend that she had never seen them before, how she was going to pretend to be lost in a house she could map out on the back of her hand, but Peko knew she had to find a way. 

 

“Turning up your nose already, Lucy?” Junko teased, which made both her and Mikan laugh. It was then that Peko forced herself to consider that Junko knew everything and that this was some sort of power play connected to the thing that she possibly was planning that Komaeda called the Great Despair. She felt the sudden need to run back to the hospital and interrogate him, but Peko was trapped in the car. Foolishly, she looked out the window to see if she could find a safe place to barrel-roll out of the car, but they were surrounded by traffic on both sides. To try and escape now would just land her in the hospital bed next to Nagito’s, and Peko had to wonder if that would actually be worse than whatever was about to happen, but she couldn’t force her hand to move to unbuckle the seat belt and open the door. 

 

“Hardly.” She said, her voice quiet and raspy, as if it was a boulder being forced through a straw. “I just don’t feel well and wouldn’t want to intrude on a stranger.”

 

“Oh hush, Natsumi isn’t a stranger!” Junko didn’t elaborate on that, didn’t say anything about how she knew her and had been friends with her, didn’t mention the brief conversation that she and Natsumi had that morning, didn’t say a damn thing and Peko was absolutely certain that she knew. 

 

“What do you want from me?” Peko asked, hating how weak her voice sounded and the fact that she couldn’t force herself to look at Junko in the mirror and instead kept her eyes on the floor. 

 

“I don’t want anything.” She said as she turned down the road that would take them directly to the mansion. “I just want you to enjoy yourself.”

 

“That’s something.” Peko deadpanned, which made Junko and Mikan collapse into laughter once more. They were still laughing when they passed through the golden gates of the Kuzuryuu estate.

 

***

 

From the outside, nothing about the Kuzuryuu house was different from when Peko last saw it. There was still the long driveway and expansive yard covered with flowers and the cobblestone walkway that lead to the stairs on the porch. The curtains were still drawn, the servants were still working on the lawn, the paint was still immaculate, and the tiny glimmers of movement that could be seen from behind the curtains still gave Peko the same feeling of familiarity and fear. She spotted the window that belonged to her old room and wanted to cry as she stared at it. The curtains were still the same shade of dark blue, and she wished they had been opened so that she could see inside and see proof that something had changed, that her being gone had mattered in some way. 

 

“Come on, let’s go!” Junko said, hopping out of the car. Her arrival was the signal for Juzo to hold the family hostage in twenty four hours, and she was beyond excited to see Peko’s reaction to that. Somehow or another, Peko forced herself to get out as well, even if her legs were shaking and her eyes were vacant. She saw servants whose name she knew and who had once been something like distant family to her. She remembered that Sasuke the chauffeur who moved their car into the garage had taught her how to do a back handspring, that Horatio at the door taught her and Fuyuhiko how to read one summer with the patience of a saint, that Ivona the maid who lead them down the hall used to wrap up her injuries and kissed the bruises right up until the day she left. All of them regarded her with shock and she gave them an apologetic look. 

 

Eventually, Ivona led them into the parlor and Peko sat down on the couch, ducking her head and avoiding looking at anything in particular. “Can you tell Natsumi that we’re here?” Junko asked, giving her an innocent smile. “Tell her I brought Mikan and Lucy, too.”

 

“Of course.” Ivona left the room after that and Peko continued to keep her head down and sat on her hands to keep them from shaking. Horatio passed the parlor, listening to their idle chatter before entering the office that Peko recognized as belonging to her old master, Manabu Kuzuryuu.

 

Junko was talking to them about the dress that Chisa wore the other day when he entered, glaring at the three girls. “Natsumi didn’t tell me she was bringing friends over.” He said, his voice stiff as he focused his glare on Peko’s temple. She knew it was improper not to look at him, but she couldn’t force herself to move her neck and look at him. 

 

“Oh, sorry sir. We’re from St. Bernadette’s! I’m Junko Enoshima.” She introduced, holding out her hand and giving Manabu one of the smile that made people melt. Even he wasn’t entirely resistant to it. 

 

“A pleasure to meet you.” He managed to stop glaring for a second and almost seemed to be smiling before he looked at the other two. 

 

Mikan figured it was best for her to introduce herself next and spoke softly, but with a level of sweetness that typically pleased adults. “Um, I’m Mikan Tsumiki!” 

 

“Nice to meet you as well.” Manabu gave her a quick smile just to put her at ease, figuring that there was no way that a girl who introduced herself so kindly would know about Peko and all that happened. He was certain that she and Junko were just bystanders in the whole affair. 

 

There was a beat of silence before Peko introduced herself. It was hard for her to make the words leave her throat, but she managed and she was almost proud of that. “My name is Lucy. Lucy Pekoyama.” She introduced, finally finding the courage to turn her head and look at Manabu. He had more wrinkles than she remembered, looked worn and tired and angry beyond belief when she held out her hand. 

 

The handshake threatened to break some of Peko’s metacarpals, but she didn’t let up or even wince. “Truly a pleasure, Miss Pekoyama.” He hissed, and for a second, Peko feared that he was going to slap her across the face before Natsumi came sprinting down the stairs.

 

“Junko, hey! You didn’t tell me you were bringing Mikan and Peko! If you did, I would have made more popcorn.” Natsumi pouted for half of a second, stepping on her father’s foot as she sat down next to Peko. “Nice ribbons, Peko. White’s a good look on you.”

 

“Really? I always thought it washed her out.” Junko commented. “I kind of like the black more.”

 

“S-So do I.” Mikan agreed. 

 

“I like both of them.” Peko said, unsure why she felt that now was the time to voice her opinion on anything, let alone something dumb like hair ribbons. “That’s why I wore both of them.”

 

“Well, as much as I would like to listen to this ribbon debate, I have work to get back to. Enjoy your evening, girls.” Manabu turned on his heel, stalking back to his office and plotting a way to get Peko alone and figure out exactly what the meaning of this was.

 

Meanwhile, Natsumi was over the moon. She lead the trio into her room, chattering aimlessly about the art in the halls and dumb things she and Fuyuhiko had done in certain areas of the house. Her voice was loud and it carried, warning everyone within a three mile radius that Natsumi Kuzuryuu was there and overjoyed. Natsumi’s room was a bit of a mess, just like always, and Natsumi sat on her bed and turned on a movie. 

 

Junko and Mikan ended up towards the end of the bed, pretending to be absorbed in the film when really they were absorbed in their thoughts of the horrors to come, the awful things they would do for the sake of doing awful things and the things they would make others do. They made commentary on each scene, laughing at the actors who died on screen because they both knew that the death they would cause would be much more beautiful than that.

 

Right behind them, Peko sat with her hands folded in her lap as Natsumi unbraided and braided her hair. With Junko and Mikan right there, Natsumi couldn’t say exactly how much she had missed Peko over the months she was gone, how she missed having someone to talk to on the hard days and someone to enjoy the good days with. Natsumi had missed Peko like Fuyuhiko missed his eye: she was able to cope with life without her, but life when she was there was infinitely preferable. She knew that Fuyuhiko’s longing had been different, like someone had ripped out his lungs and told him to go swimming, but it had still been rough for her to suddenly lose her best and only friend. Even if Junko and Mikan weren’t there, Natsumi wasn’t sure that she would say it, anyhow. She had a reputation to keep up. But she showed it with simple gestures, by braiding her hair in a million different ways and getting up each time she noticed that someone was running low on soda so that Peko wouldn’t have to and telling stories about the nonsense she had gotten up to over the summer so that the albino could be filled in. Judging by the small smile on her face, Peko seemed to enjoy this, even if she was incredibly nervous. 

 

Halfway through the movie, she remembered the note she had received in the hospital and she wondered if Manabu would go through with what he wrote, if he would kill his children for this. But Sakakura was close and wouldn’t allow his charges to be murdered, and she couldn’t see his wife allowing it, either. It was most likely an exaggeration, but Peko was still beyond anxious about it. 

 

“I’m going to go to the restroom.” She said after a few minutes of contemplating the note, and Natsumi nodded, letting go of her half-braided hair. It looked somewhat silly, Peko walking around with all of the ribbons braided into her hair but only down to the nape of her neck, but she scarcely cared. She ended up pacing the halls, landing in the kitchen and absently opening the fridge before closing it again. The third time she did this, she saw Fuyuhiko out of the corner of her eye. 

 

“...Peko?” He said, almost as if he thought she was a hallucination. 

 

“I didn’t even know I was going to be here until Junko pulled into the driveway.” Peko said, feeling the need to explain herself before confirming her existence. It was then that Fuyuhiko got a proper look at Peko. Her cheeks were flushed, her shirt was disheveled, her glasses were askew, and she kept looking at the door as if she expected someone to come through it with a gun. 

 

“It’s alright. I just didn’t expect it. Are you feeling alright, though? You don’t look too good.” Fuyuhiko told her, paused for a second, and then immediately corrected himself. “No, no, that’s not what I meant! You look beautiful, you always look beautiful, but like, you look like you don’t feel well. Like you have a fever or something. Do you have a fever? Are you sick? If you’re sick, you shouldn’t be going anywhere, you should be staying home and getting better!” He rambled on, figuring that the best way to hide his embarrassment about calling her beautiful was to just talk about utter nonsense and hope she didn’t notice. 

 

Peko did notice, and her face turned even more red at the compliment. He frowned at this, figuring that she really must be sick. He went on his tiptoes and pressed his hand to one cheek and then the other. “You’re burning up, Peko. Let me get you something.”

 

“You don’t have to.” She said, feeling entirely overwhelmed by the fact that she might be the cause of his death and yet Fuyuhiko was fussing over whether or not she had a cold. It was such a kind, stupid thing, the sort of thing that seemed unexpected for someone of his reputation, but Peko knew better. 

 

“Yeah, I don’t have to, but I _want_ to.” He said, getting a bottle of Advil from a cupboard and handing her two of the pills and a glass of water. “And don’t worry about my parents, because I know you’re probably fussing about that. I can handle them! I have Sakakura to back me up and Izayoi on speed dial if things get too dicey. And Ruruka, too. She’s the one we should all really be afraid of. Remember that one time someone stole all that flour from the bakery?”

 

Peko remembered that incident from their freshman year, the way Ruruka paced around the kitchen and ranted. It turned out that the person who sold it was trying to pass it off as cocaine and Ruruka had to be held back from chopping off his hands because she read that it was an ancient punishment for thievery. “I don’t think I can forget. Who knew someone who wore that much pink would be so bloodthirsty?”

 

“I did. Pink was the only color Natsumi wore for ten years.” Fuyuhiko reminded, which made Peko smile for just half of a second, but it was enough to reassure him that Peko was somewhat calmed down from earlier. 

 

“True. I think I have to return to the movie. Junko will get suspicious if I’m gone for too long.” Peko said, sighing softly. It was then that in a move of impulsiveness, Fuyuhiko took one of Peko’s hands in his, brought it up to his lips, and kissed it. 

 

“Alright. Be careful, and don’t worry. I can talk sense into my parents.” Before either of them could fully contemplate the gesture, he was summoned by a yell from downstairs. The voice sounded like Manabu’s and Fuyuhiko shook his head. “I guess that’s my cue.” And with that, he went one way and Peko went the other. 

 

“You took your time.” Junko noted when Peko returned. 

 

“I got lost.” She lied, sitting back down and letting Natsumi finish the braid. Natsumi gave her a knowing smile and a giggle and the four of them finished the movie. 

 

Their departure was uneventful, as they managed to avoid the area where Fuyuhiko and his parents were arguing. Peko wasn’t close enough to hear the specific words, but she could tell by the rise and fall of voices that Fuyuhiko was doing well, and she couldn’t help but be proud of him. They piled back into the car and Junko agreed to drive Peko back to Hope’s Peak so that she could get her things. Wednesday was the night that she was to stay at her mother’s, which was something Peko never really enjoyed. Her mother was too emotional and chaotic and weirdly manipulative. She made Peko feel profoundly uncomfortable, but it was better than an orphanage, she supposed. 

 

As they drove, Peko noticed something sticking out of Junko’s purse. It was a notebook, but not one that she had ever seen her use at school. She couldn’t see the cover of it, but it looked important. When she was certain that Junko wasn’t looking, Peko grabbed it from the purse and flipped a page open. She only saw two words before she knew that she needed to take it and read it to figure it out. This book had the answers she needed. This book would be able to tell her everything and Peko wasn’t about to let it go. She sat perfectly still for a few minutes and once she was sure that neither Mikan or Junko was paying attention to her, she snuck the notebook into her coat and that was how Peko Pekoyama ended up exiting the stolen car and walked into Hope’s Peak with the exact details of how to kill everyone inside pressed to her chest. 

 

Before she could go to her room, she was stopped by Chisa. Peko didn’t fully listen to what she said, but she got the general message that she was getting her phone back early since she had helped make sure that Nagito didn’t die in the cafeteria. Even if she didn’t get the exact words, Peko could appreciate the sentiment. She grabbed the phone and all but sprinted up to her room. Once inside, she put Elsie in her carrier and grabbed her bag before calling a taxi. She didn’t even bother to speak to her mother before heading into her room and shutting the door behind her. She let Elsie out and pet her before taking out her phone and the notebook. She programmed Izayoi’s and Juzo’s and Fuyuhiko’s and everyone else’s numbers into the phone and sent them all a text, a simple _Hi, it’s Peko Pekoyama and this is my phone number_ before tossing it aside and opening the notebook. It was then that she looked at the title and took a deep breath before opening it. 

 

It only took her one page for Peko to realize that _Junko Enoshima’s Plan for the Mutual Killing of Everyone at Hope’s Peak Halfway House!_ was even worse than it sounded


	20. Inevitable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. So. This is happening. Let me know what you think in the comments. I don't really have anything else to say other than that if you're squeamish about blood, please read the last section with caution.

The pages of the notebook were thin and worn as Peko turned them, a few nearly ripping as she read. There was the obviously concerning title and page one was filled with various versions of the plan, each signed and dated by Junko. The earliest one was from three years ago, and the final one was from September. That one was circled in bright pink highlighter and almost indistinguishable from the one before it except for a singular thing, and that thing was her name. Peko could feel panic rising in her chest as she tried to figure out how she fit into Junko’s grand plan, since the detail involving her just said “and add in Lu-Lu, she’ll follow me to hell and back.” The only way to know what she meant by that was to read, and so that was exactly what she did. 

After the page with the final version of the plan began the sections on the exact mechanics of the game. In the notebook was the name and price of each weapon that was bought and who bought it and the exact address of where it was located along with who would pick it up. There were also maps of the city, of people’s houses, and of Hope’s Peak itself with various sections circled with little comments like _Bet at least three will die here!_ in Junko’s girlish script. But the main writing in that section didn’t look like Junko’s handwriting. It looked more...professional. The wording was highly technical and there were no i’s dotted with hearts and very little jokes or comments or doodles. It was efficient and empty and utterly horrifying. She resisted the urge to vomit as she read through that section, piecing together exactly how long this took to plan, how long Junko must have been waiting for the chance to have them all kill each other for her own amusement. Or at least, Peko assumed that was why. She had yet to stumble upon a page with an explanation.

The next section was the one about the residents, and that one terrified her even more. Every page was nearly inscribed with the name of a Hope’s Peak resident and beneath their name was a myriad of details. Some of it was simple stuff, like age and grade and hobbies, but then there was the blackmail. She had something on _everyone_ from Monomi to Monaca. Although Peko knew it was an invasion of privacy, she couldn’t stop herself from reading about Mondo’s multiple assaults and his crush on Taka or Chiaki’s incidents of doxxing or how Naegi was raped and nearly beaten to death at a homeless shelter and then thrown out into subzero temperatures. It was all morbid and awful, but she couldn’t look away. 

Eventually, she found the phrase she had originally been looking for and the one she had seen in the back of the car that caused her to take the notebook in the first place. _Izuru Kamukura_. It was in the same neat handwriting as the section on the game mechanics. Peko closed her eyes for half a second, forcing herself to relax before reading the entry.

_My name is Izuru Kamukura. As of March 3rd, 2016, I am 15 years old. This body belongs to Hajime Hinata. Hajime Hinata is currently unavailable, but he will return soon. The blackmail against him is that I exist and that I am who I am. I am the person who killed those people at the public defender’s office and at the police department. I killed them because it was Junko who found me and told me to do it or she would kill me. That was why I did the first one. I don’t know why I kept doing it. That’s the blackmail Junko has for me. I’m only agreeing to help plan this because at least the mutual killing won’t be_ **boring** _. At least, Junko said it won't be boring, and she hasn't been wrong about such things for as long as I've known her. She also instructed me to write this section as if it was a journal entry. She said it would come into play once Komaeda shot himself and that it will pacify the curiosity of the person she will make read it. She hasn’t said who that person is, since she has yet to find someone who’s reaction will be “funny” enough. To that person, I hope you have a reaction that is adequately amusing to Junko. Pretend to be horrified, at least for her sake. Maybe she’ll make your death swift if you do._

Peko was left reeling after reading that short entry and put the book down for a second to check her phone. There was a text from Izayoi, six texts and two missed phone calls from Natsumi, two texts from Fuyuhiko, nine texts from Ruruka, and a missed call from an unknown number that she assumed was a misdial. It would be easier to just drown herself in that happy world of "I'm glad you're back, I missed you!", but she didn’t want to tell them anything until she had all of the information she needed and Peko felt that she had a certain duty to finish what she had started.

Her own page was a few after Izuru's and Peko couldn’t make herself fully read Junko’s analysis of her, but she saw enough to get the general gist of it. There were words like quiet and depressed and in need of guidance, willing to follow and secretive and paranoid and reckless with her own life. The word that caught her attention was loyal, which Junko had underlined six times and written in all caps. Right under that was a small note, which just read _Maybe fit her in as a designated killer in case it stagnates_. As she read that, Peko remembered that there was a very real possibility that she could be at Hope’s Peak when this all started, since the plan stated that the killing would begin two days after Nagito’s suicide attempt. It was then that she decided that she wouldn’t return to the halfway house, not even to get her school uniform. She would tell her mother what she found and she would call the police and Peko would stay home from school and never step another foot in that god-forsaken place. She was tempted to get up right then and start it all, but she forced herself to finish reading. 

Peko passed all of the other pages about Hope’s Peak residents and found the pages of people that Junko would use as collateral to get others to kill. Most of it was in the neat writing of Izuru Kamukura, but the later entries were in Junko’s hand. She found pages on Fuyuhiko and Natsumi and Juzo and even Kyosuke Munakata, who Peko only heard of briefly when looking for Juzo. Junko had pictures and copies of their schedules and descriptions of their personality, along with the exact plan of how she would hold them all hostage. Thursday night was when Sakakura was supposed to do it, if Peko did the math right. She had under twenty four hours to get the Kuzuryuus out of there. She picked up her phone to text them, but it was dead since it had gone so long without being charged and she had received such an influx of messages. Elsie was startled when after nearly an hour in silence, Peko swore and tossed her phone at the wall. It made her feel somewhat better to let off all of that steam and she sat there for at least a minute before taking a few deep breaths and plugging the phone into its charger. She comforted herself with the fact that there were very few pages left and picked up the journal once again.

Once she made her way through the last bits of blackmail, there was a list of everyone’s fates. The conspirators were all names she recognized, which made her feel sick. Sure, she saw exactly what lies they were told, but it still left Peko feeling disgusted. What was even more disgusting was what would happen to them. All of them were destined to be participants except for Komaeda, who would be despairing in a hospital on the other side of the city, and Monaca. Even if Peko disliked Monaca, Junko’s description of her fate made her feel bad for the girl. She would be kidnapped at five in the morning and put in the basement of Mikan’s father. The only thing written from five to ten was “ _Let him have fun_ ” and from what Peko could gather from Mikan’s family life, that was sure to be nothing good. Then Junko would get out of school by faking being ill, go to the house, and torture the girl herself, joined by Mikan once school left out. By the time the official search party for Monaca Towa began, she would already have been thrown in front of a car for the final blow, an ironic callback to how she had ended up in a wheelchair in the first place. It was cruel and needless and all just so that Junko could make a big enougha distraction big enough that nobody would notice her true plan. 

There was just one more page after that, and that was the page that truly sent Peko spinning. 

_Congratulations, Lu-Lu!_ The page began. _You took the book, just like I thought! I originally wanted you to be part of my plan, but now you get to be a bystander! This is why you should’ve listened to me, sweetie pie. Saying no to me is bad, bad, bad! I would’ve probably spared you, but too late for that now! Oh, and I would have spared you if you just listened to me, but it’s too late for that now. And you see, I have a police scanner, so if I hear anything that’s approaching my location, I’ll know it’s from you and my very last action will be to kill Fuyuhiko and Natsumi! And maybe even Kiyotaka if I have the time!! As fun as that would be for me, I know that wouldn’t be fun for you, so you better not do anything for their sake. If you even so much as try to warn anyone, I’ll find out and I’ll kill them for that, too! Got it? Oh, and don’t worry about giving the notebook back, I already have it memorized. If you’re asking yourself why I let you find this, I let you find this there’s a very simple answer: you’re cute when you’re scared shitless. And as for why I’m doing this...Well, why not? Despair is sooooooo fun!?! Have a good night and have fun being useless!_

Peko couldn’t believe it. The journal had been a plant to scare her, to force her to watch the horrors and know they were going to happen and be unable to do anything. She was too shocked to cry and instead looked at that last page until her vision started to blur. Her phone was still unusable and Peko felt utterly trapped, so she did the only thing that seemed logical: she started looking for her mother. Even if Peko wasn’t particularly fond of her, she figured that she could trust her. After all, her mother had welcomed Peko into her home and only complained about how much strain it put on her about once a week. That seemed reasonable. Peko could understand how she could be troublesome to a woman who had only been a child herself when she was born. It made perfect sense.

Her mother wasn’t in her office, but her mother’s computer was. Peko knew that her mother made money by running some crazy blog about the magic of going gluten-free and doing everything but fucking a vegetable, so Peko didn’t expect to see her name on the screen, and yet there it was. Overwhelmed by curiosity, she sat down in the office chair and clicked on the most recent entry. It was all about her and the incident where she had skipped school and refused to answer why, even after two hours of interrogation. It was dramatic and stupid and was obviously made to garner sympathy, and judging by the comments, it did just that. She continued searching and found at least twenty more posts like that, each of them containing information about Peko that she didn’t want to the entire world to know. Even if it was nothing compared to the notebook, it still left her feeling oddly violated. After a few minutes, she shut the computer, laid her head down on the desk, and sighed. 

It was then that Nadine entered the room and took in the sight of her teenage daughter hunched over the desk, her hair a tangled mess of a half finished braid and her face hidden from view. “Honey, is there something wrong? Do you need anything?”

Peko raised her head, turned to her mother, and thought about it for a second. Her mother clearly wasn’t trustworthy. Her mother had no idea about the level of danger she was in. Her mother didn’t understand _anything_. “Nothing.” She said after an exaggerated pause, getting up from the chair and giving her a glare before heading for the door. “I need nothing from you.”

***

A few miles away, a very different parental confrontation was taking place. Fuyuhiko sat on the edge of the couch, holding an ice pack to his one good eye. He couldn’t see anything now, which was amazingly irritating. 

“I have one good eye, Dad, and that’s the eye you go for. Low fuckin’ blow.” He muttered, removing the ice pack for the express purpose of glaring at him before putting it back on. Fuyuhiko knew that Peko would flip if she saw a bruise on his face, so his primary concern was getting rid of it. 

“Don’t swear at your father.” His mother scolded, crossing her arms as she paced. 

“Well, maybe my father shouldn’t go for a cheap shot after dehumanizing a girl who lived with us for fifteen years.” He suggested, earning himself a sharp slap in the face from his mother. Fuyuhiko barely even flinched.

“He has a point.” Natsumi added from the doorway, not wanting to get too close to them. “I mean, she lived here for years and we just totally kicked her to the curb. What would be wrong with letting her see us again? She’s her own person now and if she was going to talk shit on us and ruin our reputation and whatever, Peko probably would’ve done it by now, considering how we’ve been with her since like, July.”

“Yeah!” Fuyuhiko agreed, deciding to just run with that point. His appeals to his parent’s emotions on the matter of seeing Peko had failed miserably, so maybe Natsumi’s approach was a good one. “If anything, the longer we keep her alienated, the more likely she is to remember all of the bad stuff and try to keep away business from the Ishimarus and start shit talking. But if we keep her close and treat her better than we did before, she’ll be more likely to remember the good stuff. Let her back in, if that’s what she wants.” He was talking out of his ass and Fuyuhiko knew that he would take out his other eye before he even tried to normalize how his parents treated Peko, but they didn’t need to know that. 

Manabu sat in front of Fuyuhiko and took the ice pack from his eye so that he could see him and sighed. “I’m trying to do what’s best for this family. You know that, right? I’m trying to do what’s best for us.”

“And I’m telling you that what’s best for us is letting Peko back into our lives, if that’s what she wants. You just don’t want to see it because that would mean you were wrong.” As much as Fuyuhiko wanted to chew him out, he knew that would get him nowhere. The past few months had taught him some tact, so he managed to bite his tongue and briefly glance over at Natsumi, who was grinning with pride. 

Their father seemed to consider this point, moving the ice pack from one hand to the other. “I’ve been saying since the beginning that it was a bad idea to kick her out.” His wife added. Fuyuhiko wanted to tell her that it was actually a great idea in the end, that she probably wouldn’t have been able to realize that she was a person otherwise, but he bit down on his tongue and kept his mouth shut. 

Manabu gave his son the ice pack back and started pacing up and down the living room. He thought about image and reputation and secrets and all of the things Peko knew and could easily ruin for him, especially considering that his reaction to her arrival was less than cordial even if it was accidental. The only major con was that it would involve sacrificing his pride and admitting he was wrong, and how could he lead his family if he admitted to error? What he didn’t know was that he lost the right to leadership a long time ago, that somewhere in between the violence he inflicted and the way he treated those who worked for him and the screaming matches with his wife, everyone in his house had lost respect for him and only kept the illusion of it to keep him pacified. 

He sat down on the couch and put his head in his hands. Both of his children and his wife were united against him on this front, and he couldn’t steer all three of them away from it. Maybe if he had been able to make Natsumi disliked Peko, or maybe if he managed to get his wife to fully support the decision to get rid of her, or maybe if he had been able to convince Fuyuhiko that it would be awful to bring her around...But it was too late for all of that. “Fine.” He conceded, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Talk to her as you please.”

Manabu left the room after that, his wife following at his heels and complaining about how long it took for him to admit that he was wrong. Fuyuhiko put up his hand for a high five and laughed when Natsumi somehow managed to miss it before taking out his phone to text Peko and let her know that it had all been okay in the end, that she could finally come and go as she pleased.

***

Somehow or another, Peko Pekoyama managed to make herself get up in the morning. After the incident with her mother, she had spent most of the night texting everyone back and talking to them, figuring that she should collect at least one pleasant conversation with everyone before she had to witness the carnage. Those were the things she tried to think of as she picked at her breakfast and got dressed for school and slipped out of the house without waking up her mother. She decided it would be best to leave Elsie there for the next few days, just in case. The only thing she left was a small note explaining that Elsie was to stay there for a few days, citing some imaginary illness of Gundham’s cat that was possibly contagious that she didn’t want her cat to get. If something happened, she hoped her mother had enough sense to hand the cat over to Kiyotaka.

Peko hoped that she would be able to make it to school without running into Junko and the rest of the Hope’s Peak crew, but as she walked, she heard the shout of “Hey, Lu-Lu!” and almost burst into tears as she turned around. There was Junko Enoshima, grinning at her as if nothing happened. Mikan was with her as well and gave Peko a shy wave, as if she wasn’t planning to torture a child to death. It was then that she remembered that it was six in the morning. Monaca was already gone. The rest of the usual group was far behind them and Peko sighed. She was out of options. 

“Hello.” She returned, moving towards them almost robotically and trying her best not to glare at Junko and Mikan too obviously. 

“How’d you sleep?” Junko asked, slinging an arm over Peko’s shoulder as they walked. 

“I didn’t.” The reply was short and clipped and made Junko laugh. 

“Oh, Lu-Lu, you don’t even _know_ what sleep deprived is gonna feel like.” She teased, still smirking. 

“I hope you know that I detest you.” Peko whispered, keeping her voice quiet enough that no one but Junko and Mikan could hear her. 

“I do know! The thing is, I don’t give a damn. And by the end of it, you’ll love me! It’ll be so, so fun that you’ll just...love me! If you live, you can help next time.” Junko promised, trying to kiss her on the cheek and pouting when Peko ducked away from her and nearly ended up on the other side of the sidewalk. 

“Lucy, y-you really need to calm down. Are you feeling alright?” Mikan feigned concern, pressing a hand to Peko’s cheek to try and check her temperature. Peko didn’t actually respond to that, just gave her a look that said everything her mouth couldn’t. Normally Mikan shrunk away under such glares so Peko avoided giving them, but now she just smirked and Peko knew that even if she was subtly being blackmailed, she was enjoying all of this far too much. 

As they walked, they eventually caught up with Fuyuhiko and Natsumi. Fuyuhiko could tell from the set of Peko’s shoulders and the way that she looked at him that something was up, but he knew better than to ask her about it right then. Instead he just listened as Natsumi and Junko danced around each other and silently walked next to her for a few seconds and didn’t speak until he was certain nobody was paying attention to them. It was hard to notice them, after all, when Natsumi and Junko were being loud enough that all of Chicago could hear them.

“Mornin’.” He greeted, giving her a small smile. “What’s up?”

“Good morning.” Peko’s voice was stiff and awkward and Fuyuhiko searched desperately for the source of her discomfort. He remembered her walking a bit further away from Junko than usual, but hadn’t seen what happened, so he figured that it was likely to be her. “And nothing much. What about you?”

“No, something’s up, Peko. If you don’t want to tell me, that’s cool, but you seem...nervous. Is there anything I can do?” He wasn’t going to push her to talk about it, but Fuyuhiko was worried about her. It was still disorienting to see her so visibly uncomfortable. 

“I want to tell you, but I can’t.” She said, her voice so soft that he had to strain to hear it. “Do you understand what I mean? I want to tell you, but I actually can’t.”

Peko glanced over at Junko and Mikan, hoping he would follow what she meant. Fuyuhiko followed her gaze to the duo that was surrounding Natsumi, asking questions about her eyeliner, and he nodded. Those two were doing something, something that had Peko on edge, and something that forced her to keep her mouth shut. Fuyuhiko knew that Natsumi referred to them as being shady, but he didn’t have them as high-level threats. Now they moved up a few spots, and he decided that he would find out what it was that they were up to. “I understand. Is there anything I can do to help you, though?”

“Not really.” She admitted, not wanting to throw him into danger by letting him into what the real scope was. Peko already felt somewhat guilty for tainting one of the last good memories they would have together before everything happened, but she didn’t want to lie to Fuyuhiko anymore. “Just keep an eye out and...and stay close to me, if you can.”

“I’ve only got the one.” He joked, pointing to his one good eye. Fuyuhiko noticed that Junko was looking at them now and started talking aimlessly about his plan to go as a pirate for halloween since he already had the eyepatch and he was charged with taking his little cousins out to get candy. It was a dumb, pointless conversation, but it seemed to release some of the tension from Peko’s shoulders so he just kept talking and talking and talking until they had to go their separate ways. He was inseparable from his phone that day, finding cute pictures of dogs to send to Peko in an attempt to comfort her from a distance. He had no idea if it worked or not, but Fuyuhiko was determined to try until he could launch an investigation into Junko Enoshima and figure out what was going on. 

***

The school day seemed to be both too fast and too slow. Every second was agony because she couldn’t stop thinking about what Monaca Towa was going through at that moment in time, especially when the clock struck ten and Junko left school under the guise of having fallen ill. Mikan took to hanging on Peko like a leech, giggling at nothing and looking off into the distance with glassy eyes that seemed to hold nothing behind them. And yet it also seemed too fast, since she knew the real horror was approaching them at mach speed and there was little to nothing that she could do to stop it. Once school let out, Mikan all but ran to her father’s house, leaving Peko by herself. She didn’t stop to talk to anyone at Hope’s Peak, just ran up to her room and looked up _Tsumiki_ online and started looking until she found an address. Maybe there was a chance that she could still save Monaca, that when they threw her out on the street that Peko could call an ambulance and have them get there fast enough that the girl would live. Even if Monaca Towa was an annoying kid, she was just that. A _kid_. Peko wasn’t about to stand by and try to do nothing about the death of a kid, and she was fairly certain that Junko wouldn’t kill Fuyuhiko for Peko calling an ambulance. It would be an interference, but the crash and the disappearance would still be enough of a big deal that it wouldn’t interfere with the main plan. Besides, somebody was going to do it, and it might as well be Peko. 

Once she found the address, Peko ran out of Hope’s Peak. As she sprinted out the door, she ran head first into Izuru Kamukura. They both stumbled back and Peko stared up at him, glaring with all of her might. He seem undeterred by her fierce facial expression and actually yawned, which only managed to piss her off. 

“Help me.” She demanded, crossing her arms across her chest. Peko didn’t know what she wanted him to do, but she knew that he could definitely be helpful. Maybe if he interfered under her orders, the madness could be stopped and the Kuzuryuus and Taka could live. After all, Junko seemed to have very little grasp on Kamukura. If she could just blame it on him…If he could stop it without getting the police involved...

“Why should I do that?” He asked, seeming so incredibly bored that Peko wanted to hit him. Her entire world was falling apart at the seams and this person who looked like Hinata and yet so clearly _wasn’t_ looked like he was watching a particularly cliche soap opera. 

“It won’t be boring.” Peko promised, remembering the bolded and underlined word he wrote. The only thing she could truly gather from that was that Izuru Kamukura seemed to hate being bored, and she could use that to her advantage. 

”There are a lot of things that aren't boring.” Izuru reminded, raising an eyebrow at her.

”And following Junko’s plan exactly to the letter isn't going to be one of them.” Peko began, trying to craft a speech that could convince him to at least try to burn it all down. “Think about it for a minute. You do everything she says, the game goes exactly how she wants, you escape because you can probably kill all of us, and then what? You get thrown in jail? Because you will go to jail when we all die, at least until the trial finishes up. There’s no way that Junko doesn't have a way to frame you for what’s about to happen, and even if you manage to get out of that, you almost certainly won't be able to escape prosecution for the other murders. And if you do, then you’re known as a criminal forever and your options are severely limited as for what you can do after that. And dying? I’ve come pretty close to dying a few times, and I can tell you that it’s not particularly interesting. It’s not fun. It just hurts. If you help me stop this, there are a lot more variables depending on what we fail at and what we do right. I don't know the exact numbers, but you do. You know exactly how delicate this operation is. Trying to sabotage it gives a thousand different possibilities, but following it...That just gives you one. And wouldn't that be boring?”

Izuru considered what she said, frowning at a point in the distance before shrugging. “Fine. But if it’s boring, I’m out.”

Peko sighed in relief and then composed herself. “Thank you. Go back to Hajime’s room and just wait for now. I’ll text his phone when I know exactly what I need you to do. The waiting might be boring, but I can promise you that the actual event won’t be.”

“Swear on it.” He said suddenly, his eyes lighting up with something like curosity. 

“I swear it on my life.” Peko told him, and Izuru scoffed. 

“Swear on something that actually matters to you.” He insisted. “Junko filled me in on your recklessness. Your life doesn’t matter to you.”

“That was then. This is now. And now, it matters.” She said, raising an eyebrow before repeating herself. “I swear it on my life.”

“Fine. Whatever. If it bores me, I’ll take you up on that. And that isn’t a threat, Pekoyama. It’s a promise.” With that, he stalked into Hope’s Peak and Peko continued her trek to the Tsumiki house. 

She started heading towards the subway, trying to remember the exact details of all the schedules. She had a little over half an hour until Monaca was thrown out in front of a car and twenty minutes until Kyosuke Munakata’s subways trip home. An idea struck her and she ran into the nearest corner store, grabbed a pencil, opened the notebook, and wrote a note on the front page. It was a simple thing, just stating who she was and what was about to happen to Juzo and that he needed to tell Chisa at the same time he normally called her because there was no way that she could do it. She then advised him to read the whole thing front to back so that he could understand the full gravity of the situation and signed it with her full name before waiting for the subway that the notebook said he got on. When it stopped, Peko jumped on it and wandered through the subway until she found him.

Munakata looked at her, remembering her face from the amount of missing posters that Sakakura had sent to him while complaining about the whole process of trying to find the girl who had once held his job. She was taller than he figured that she would be, only a few inches shorter than him. Somehow, he had imagined someone smaller than Peko. His gaze was curious, but she had a strange sense of certainty. 

“Munakata?” She confirmed, rifling through her bag and pulling out a notebook. 

“The one and only.” He said dryly. 

Peko held out the notebook to him, the cover facing down towards the floor. “Read this when you return home and follow its instructions. It’s for Juzo’s safety.” Her voice was scarcely above a whisper and nearly lost amongst the chaos in the subway car, but Munakata heard her and took the notebook, putting it in the pocket of his coat.

“I have to warn you, if you’re going to hurt him, I was something of a kendo star back in my day. And I’m not afraid to hurt anyone who would hurt him, even if they are high school girls.” He reminded, glaring down at Peko. 

“I would never.” She said, and that much was true. Even if she had been somewhat upset by her replacement a few months back, the idea of hurting Sakakura was unthinkable. “Frankly, that would be stupid. I would lose that fight within two and a half minutes unless I had my katana.”

“Really? From what I heard, you have quite a talent with a shinai.” He raised an eyebrow at her, expressing his doubt in a way that he hoped would attract little attention by those around them. 

“And I heard he’s quite talented at breaking things. He would split it into pieces.” Peko told him this as if she was telling him the weather report, and Munakata actually let out a chuckle. 

“Sakakura certainly would.” The subway car stopped and Munakata listened to the announcement as to which stop it was. “I’m afraid I must leave you now. Stay out of trouble now, won’t you? If you don’t, I might never hear the end of it.”

“And you as well.” She said as he left, glad to have the damnable notebook out of her hands and into the grasp of someone who might be able to do something valuable with it. Certainly the whole thing would creep him out, but from what she read, Kyosuke was calm and collected and able to do the right thing. Even though she didn’t know him, Peko had to trust him. She had no other choice. 

The subway stopped again five minutes later and Peko got off, hurrying above group and to the street that Mikan’s father lived on. She saw the exact house and shivered, knowing the horrors that were going on inside that she could do nothing about. She walked around the block for a little bit, just waiting for the exact moment it was going to happen. As she paced, she spotted Junko and Mikan leaving the house. Mikan was sobbing, almost unable to move and being dragged by Junko. She was able to stay hidden and Mikan was distracting Junko enough that she stayed unnoticed, but the whole scene made her uneasy. It wasn’t until a few minutes later that she realized that Peko could use Mikan’s distress to her advantage, but for now she had to focus on the more important job of possibly saving Monaca’s life. 

Five minutes after Junko and Mikan left, she saw two men with masks over their face carrying Monaca from the house. Her cries were loud enough that Peko cringed as she heard them and took in the sight of her. Monaca’s normally impeccable dress was torn and buttoned wrong so that it was half falling off of her as she was carried. Her hair had been shaved off and there was a large gash by her temple that was bleeding profusely. Even from across the street, Peko could see the scrapes and bruises on her face and neck, coloring her normally pale skin various shades of blue and purple and red. Her face was screwed up and tears were mixing in with the blood and some snot dripped from her nose. Monaca had always been an ugly crier, hard to feel sympathy for, but now Peko wanted to rush forward and take the girl in her arms even if Monaca was known to attack anyone who came too close. There must have been wounds on her chest and legs that were covered by her dress because Peko could see the blood seeping out of them. Most people stopped for the three or four seconds they were all visible and Peko started to run towards them, waiting for a break in the traffic so that she could run across the road and take all of the men out. Monaca stopped weeping for a second and looked up at Peko. Her face seemed to light up when she saw someone she recognized and her mouth formed the first letter of Peko’s name, preparing to call out for help. 

It was then that the men threw her into oncoming traffic. A taxi hit her going at least seventy miles per hour and Peko could only stand there and watch it hit her head on. Monaca was hit by the car and flew backwards before landing on the ground with a sickening thump. Peko heard the unmistakable snapping of bones, but there was no more weeping. Somehow, despite all the pain, Monaca had stopped crying. 

Traffic stopped. People were screaming. Someone beat Peko to calling an ambulance. Peko ran forward, shoving people out of her way and muttering that she knew her, she knew Monaca, they lived together, they had lived together for months, and so they should let her through, let her see, let her _help_.

“There’s nothing to be done, dearie.” An old woman said as she tried to shove her way through, but Peko shook her head and kept moving until she broke through the crowd. 

Peko fell to her knees and pressed two fingers to the artery in her neck, but she understood that it was entirely useless. The empty, lifeless eyes of Monaca Towa stared up at her, her mouth still forming the letter P and blood still running down her face. Peko stared into those dead, glassy eyes as they all waited useless for the ambulance and understood that sometimes, horrible things were truly inevitable.


	21. The Counterstrike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some more of the nonsense! Beta'd. you through super-awesome Ramix, who might occasionally be called Remix bc my phone is a fuck. Let me know what you think and thanks for reading!

Peko Pekoyama spent the next hour of her life telling her story to the EMTs, police officers, and then finally to Monomi, lying artfully enough that no one caught her. She told the truth about the men wearing black and the house she saw them come out of, but she said nothing about Junko or Mikan or the fact that she knew exactly what happened and who did it. She was smart enough to know that saying something about it would result in the death of those she held dear and she wasn’t willing to risk that so openly and so recklessly. She was careful to keep her story consistent and as close to the truth as possible and after an hour, Monomi was finally content to give her a hug and then let her go. Peko almost wanted to spill everything to her when Monomi gave her that hug, but she held her tongue and managed to get out of the office.

As she started to head to her room to think of a good plan, she heard sobbing coming from behind Mikan’s door. Peko paused and listened for a few seconds and was able to identify the crying as actually belonging to Mikan and determined that there was no one else in the room. She thought about Mikan, about how she had wept while leaving the house and seemed overwhelmed with guilt and about all of the things that Junko wrote in the journal about her and how it could fit into a plan. Peko knew that she ought to knock because of friendly concern for Mikan (and she did have that) but more than she cared about Mikan, she cared about making sure that no one died and the best way to do that was to get those closest to Junko to help her sabotage the plan. She already had Izuru on her side, but having Mikan would help. 

It took three knocks for Mikan to open the door and all but pull Peko inside her room. The door slammed shut behind them and soon Mikan was clinging to her and sobbing hysterically. Peko couldn’t make heads or tails of what she was saying or if she was even trying to say anything and she wasn’t sure exactly what she was supposed to do, so she returned Mikan’s hug and patted her back, trying to force herself to relax and seem comforting and forgiving. It was hard to display those emotions when she was so focused on hurrying up and how much time she had left until the Kuzuryuu family was officially taken hostage, but she somehow managed to seem soft enough that Mikan was consoled enough to be coherent. 

“Y-you know what I did, d-d-don’t you? Junko wrote eve-everything down and that p-poor girl! That poor girl! W-what I did to that poor little girl…?!” Mikan burst into tears again, flinging herself onto her bed and clutching a pillow. Peko perched herself on the edge of the bed and put a hand on Mikan’s back, a silent and certain reassurance that she was still there. 

“Junko blackmailed you.” She said, and even if Junko wrote in the notebook that Mikan was more than okay with dying if she disobeyed, Peko knew that it must have hurt her. That and the fact that Junko held love over her head, right out of her grasp and promised that if Mikan could just reach a little more, then she could finally have the thing that had evaded her for so many years, that must have worn away at whatever was left of Mikan Tsumiki. “It’s not your fault.”

“Y-y-yes it was!” She protested into the pillow. “I did awful, awful things to her! Awful! And I thought...Junko said that despair was fun! That this would be _fun_. This isn’t fun, Peko! This isn’t fun. S-she said that eventually it would be fun, that hurting others w-would just be good, but--but--but--And Monaca…Monaca!”

Saying the name brought on a fresh bought of tears and Peko was careful not to show any sign of the impatience she felt. It would take time to calm her down and figure out exactly how she could help, but they were short on time. “I know.”

Mikan cried for a few more minutes and then finally seemed to tire herself out, flipping over so that she was staring up at the ceiling. “Why are you here?” She asked, sniffling occasionally. “Don’t you hate me?”

Peko thought about it, but then shook her head. “No, I don’t. I never hated you.”

“You should.” Mikan muttered, clutching a pillow to her chest. “You should really, really hate me. Monaca hates me. She told me! And so I just kept slicing and slicing away at her and she bled _everywhere_ and--”

“Obsessing over it isn’t going to do you any good, Mikan.” Peko interrupted, knowing exactly how that train of thought ended. She spent countless nights recounting each person she had killed and exactly how she had killed them, had every step and moment of each one memorized, and it left her with nothing but misery. “What you have to do is try and live a good life.”

“How am I going t-to do that, though? You know what Junko is going to do…” She clutched the pillow tighter, but she seemed willing to try, and that fact was encouraging to Peko. 

“You can help me try and stop it.” Peko suggested, leaning closer to Mikan so that it was easier to hear her. “Kamukura and I are trying to help stop the mutual killing, and the more people we can get to help, the easier it will be. You know this plan, and more than you know this plan, you know Junko. You know her better than anyone else, and we need that sort of information on our side. _I_ need that sort of information on that side. and you’re the only person who has it. I need you, Mikan, and I swear that I’m not going to let her hurt you. She already told you about what my life was before this, didn’t she?”

She nodded, not quite meeting Peko’s gaze.

“Then you know that there’s no one safer to be around and when I say that I won’t let her hurt you, you know I mean it. So, do you think you can help me?”

Mikan considered Peko’s words, sitting up and letting go of the pillow. The only other option was to go along with it, and Mikan knew that she just _couldn’t_ do that. She couldn’t hurt anyone else. “I...I think I can help. What do you need me to do?”

Peko let out a sigh of relief and took out her phone, sending a quick text to Izuru asking him to come to Mikan’s room. “We’re about to find out. And before I forget to say it, thank you. A lot of people are going to be saved because of you.”

After she said that, Mikan began to tear up again, but this time from something like joy. She latched on to Peko, who didn’t back away or roll her eyes but instead loosely wrapped an arm around her and muttered something that Mikan couldn’t hear. She didn’t really care what it was. All that mattered to her was that Peko was there and she wasn’t going to leave any time soon.

***

Izuru arrived less than a minute later, taking in the sight of Mikan, teary-eyed and disheveled, clutching onto an exhausted and overwhelmed Peko. It wasn’t interesting in the slightest, and the fact that he was bored was very clearly reflected on his face. 

Peko gently pried Mikan off of her and gestured for Izuru to sit down on the bed as well. He sat as far from Mikan as he could, reaching up to move a lock of hair that was no longer there. Damn Hajime Hinata and his chronic need to keep his hair short. 

“So.” Peko began, sitting up just a little bit straighter and trying to seem more professional. “It’s currently 7:30, which mea--”

“7:32.” Izuru interrupted, unable to stop himself from making the correction. 

“Thank you, Izuru. 7:32. In exactly twenty eight minutes, Sakak--”

“Twenty seven, now.” He interjected again, mostly to see how long it would take to irritate Peko. Annoying her was the most fun thing he could think of doing at that moment in time. The way she stiffened up and pressed her lips together to stop herself from berating him made Izuru almost laugh. 

“Thank you, Izuru.” Peko said, her voice coming out as significantly more stiff than before. “In twenty seven minutes, Sakakura will take the Kuzuryuu family hostage. That’s also the time that Munakata normally calls Chisa. According to the notebook, their conversations usually last about half an hour. This conversation will probably be shorter, although I don--”

“Five minutes. It will last five minutes, according to my calculations.” When he noticed that Mikan made confused face, Izuru shrugged. “I had Junko fill me in on adjustments made to the plan before you two went to kidnap Monaca. It took about three hours.”

“How d-do you even go about figuring that stuff out, though?” Mikan asked, thoroughly amazed by his ability. 

“Well, what you do is--”

“I’m sure it will take much longer than we have time for to explain how you reached that number. We’ll just trust you on it.” Peko interrupted, unable to take a lengthy lecture on complex emotional mathematics. 

Izuru considered the benefits of continuing to explain it despite her warning, but decided against it. It would eat up too much time and while her reaction would certainly be interesting, he figured it would be more interesting to see what the plan would be. He shrugged and gestured for Peko to continue, and she was more than happy to do so. 

“Mikan, how long did it take you and Junko to drive from the Kuzuryuu house to here?” Peko asked, trying to figure out exactly how long she would have where Junko could call the kill order before they arrived.

“Um, I’d say about forty minutes.” She said, frowning at a spot beyond Peko’s head.

“So if we left right now, we’d have a ten minute gap where they would already be taken hostage and Junko could call the kill.” She sighed, not liking that there could be a gap that large. “And assuming Chisa confronts Junko as soon as the call finished, she could text the kill order and we’d be five minutes away.”

“That would be the most despair-inducing outcome.” Izuru commented, picking at his nails.

“W-which means that’s what Junko’s planning for!” Mikan said. “If i-it’s the most despair-inducing outcome, that’s what she would set it up for.”

“So she _wants_ us to go right now.” Peko muttered, frowning at the ceiling. She knew that Izuru must have had a thousand plans that could work in his head, but she figured that he wouldn’t give them up. Not when he was more concerned about interesting. “Mikan, do you have a piece of paper in here? Maybe a pencil, too?”

“I do!” She got up and grabbed a notebook and a bright pink mechanical pencil and handed them to Peko. 

“Okay.” Peko opened it to a blank page and prepared to write. “List off every variable you can think of that’s going to cause us problems with stopping this.”

“Um, Junko calling the kill order?”

“Chisa’s confrontational nature.”

“Th-the time gap!”

“We have no way to get there.”

“The police scanner! If Chisa calls the police, then she’ll _know_!”

“The Kuzuryuus in general.”

“Monomi! She’ll want everyone t-to stay together.”

“Breaking into the Kuzuryuu house.”

“Stopping the guy, um, Sagahara, right?”

“Sakakura. And the fact that Munakata will probably call him.”

There was a pause after that last statement and Peko finished writing everything down. She remembered that Junko could kill her brother as well, but there was no one watching that house. It would take her significantly longer to do that, but she scribbled it down anyhow. 

“We need to address everything we can. Some things we can’t control, like Munakata calling Sakakura or the Kuzuryuuu family being themselves. But some of it…” She absently twirled the pencil around her fingers.

“Some of it we can do something about.” Izuru finished the thought for her, trying to figure out what he should suggest and where she would go with each suggestion.

They spent ten minutes coming up with plans and eventually decided upon one that was a hybrid of all of them. The first part was that they would wait for a few minutes, just to throw Junko off. Mikan and Izuru would then go to Junko’s room and Mikan would pretend to have doubts about going through with the plan and even going so far as wanting to confess to the police and while Junko was distracted with Mikan, Izuru would grab her phone and the police scanner. Peko, meanwhile, would be grabbing her sword and the gun she recovered from Alyosha and never returned before breaking into Mondo’s room and stealing the keys to his motorcycle and two helmets. Then she would sneak out the window and wait in the parking lot while Izuru left through the front door disguised as Hajime Hinata under the guise that he was going to visit Komaeda and tell him what happened to Monaca. Then they would drive, which was slightly terrifying for Peko since Izuru’s response to if he knew how to ride a motorcycle was a shrug and a “Probably.” But hopefully that would be enough of a thrill that he would get some pay off, especially since right after that, they would be breaking into one of the most expensive and infamous houses in the city. From there, they would just save the Kuzuryuus, stop Sakakura, and then head back to Hope’s Peak. By that point, Chisa would already have confronted Junko and probably had her arrested and it would all be good.

“You know, if this goes wrong, Junko has no issues with killing us.” Izuru reminded. “It wouldn’t give her as much despair, but it would make sure that the plan goes smoothly and that’s more important to her in the end.” 

Mikan let out a small noise of terror at that reminder, but Izuru decided to be comforting. “Don’t worry.” He said, giving her his best Hajime expression just to see what it would do. “I’ll kill you before she does.”

Peko then had to spend ten minutes calming Mikan down and getting her back into a state where she could stop crying and convincingly distract Junko. She occasionally glared at Kamukura over her shoulder, but he seemed thoroughly amused by her distress. Sure, the reaction was predictable, but it was still fun because it left him feeling something almost close to fear. Plus, it increased the gap time, and the more that the gap went up, the more he figured that he could act recklessly because there would be no time to plan lest Junko find a way to contact Sakakura anyways. 

Once Mikan was calmed down, the trio exited her room. “Good luck.” Peko said to the other two. 

“We won’t need it.” Izuru promised, sticking his hands in his pocket. 

“Good luck to you, too!” Mikan said at the same time before turning down the hall. Izuru followed and Peko watched them walk away before turning the other way and heading towards her own room. They had a plan to put in place. There was no time to hesitate. 

***

Izuru walked with Mikan, his hands in his pockets and his eyes trained on a spot down the hall where there was nothing in particular. The aimless words of Mikan Tsumiki held nothing interesting, just the fact that she was scared. Izuru wasn’t scared, but he was mildly interesting. Junko’s freak-outs could occasionally turn in directions he couldn’t predict.

Mikan knocked on the door to her room and Junko swung it open, smiling at the duo. “Mikan! Zu-Zu! Come on in!”

Mikan stepped into the room, keeping her gaze away from Junko. Izuru, meanwhile, was scanning the room. Junko’s phone was on her bed and the police scanner was under it. The phone would be easy to get, just wait for Junko to be distracted enough that she wouldn’t notice him slip it into his pocket. The police scanner was a bit more difficult. Not only was it larger, but he would need to come up with a reason to go under the bed unless he could somehow get them out of the room. As Izuru plotted, he sat down on the bed and busied himself with fixing the cufflink on his jacket as Mikan stumbled her way through an explanation that he only half listened to. 

“I don’t know, it j-just wasn’t fun and that poor girl, poor Monaca, she was just so--”

“Monaca was a bitch!” Junko shrieked, pacing around her room like a caged animal. “Monaca hated you and she got what was coming! Didn’t it feel good to get vengeance? Didn’t it make you feel all warm on the inside? Or the despair...Doesn’t this feel good? The feeling of the floor coming out from under your feet and knowing that everything just gets _worse_ and _worse_ and--”

“No! It doesn’t!” Mikan said, pulling her knees up to her chest. “It just hurts!”

Izuru watched with mild boredom when Junko slapped Mikan and shrieked about how hurting people was the only real fun, about how feeling guilty about it was the best feeling on earth. They were yelling and hitting each other and Izuru managed to get the phone into his pocket. He grinned for half of a second, proud of the fact that he was able to trick the person who taught him almost everything he knew about being manipulative, before deciding to put an end to their fight. “This is boring.” He complained, stretching out his legs. “I thought your reaction would be more interesting than this, Junko. That’s why I’m here. I want to see something _interesting_.”

“Oh, sorry I can’t be a constant beacon of entertainment for you.” She spit, slapping his across the face as well. Izuru expected that, but there was still something thrilling about the pain of it. 

“That’s what you said you would be.” He reminded, remembering the first night they met. “After you forced me to kill that man, when I remembered nothing, you told me that you would give me something interesting. That you wouldn’t bore me. And yet here you are, boring me.”

“Well, what do you want, huh?!” Junko demanded, slapping him again. “Is this what you want? Is this what you fucking want, Kamukura?!”

When she went in for a punch, Izuru grabbed her fist in his hand and contemplated exactly what he could do with it. He could break her wrist, hold her hand for as long as he pleased, kiss her knuckles, forced her fist open and then break each finger one by one...The possibilities were endless as long as he was in control. He decided to force her fist open and place a piece of candy that she kept on her nightstand into her palm. “Eat a Snickers, Enoshima. You cause less despair when you’re hungry.”

This simple phrase caused her to all but lose her mind, just as Kamukura predicted. She threw three scarfs, one dresser drawer, five notebooks, and the police scanner at him. Izuru kept his eyes on where it landed, just a few inches behind him. His artful dodging and stubbornstubbron silence irritated Junko enough that she stalked out of the room, dragging Mikan behind her and saying that Mikan would be participating in this plan whether she liked it or not. Mikan looked horrified, as no part of the plan stated that she would be going with Junko, but Izuru shrugged. Improvisation was always his one true delight. 

Once they were gone, he grabbed the police scanner, waited for exactly three minutes, and then left her room. He made his way through the lobby, trying to look how he imagined Hajime would look in this situation. 

“Haji! Hey man, where are ya goin’?” Souda asked. “Monomi said she didn’t want anyone to come or go after…Wait, did you hear about Monaca?”

“She told me.” He said, adopting the sympathetic and soft tone of Hajime Hinata. “She asked me to go tell Komaeda about it. Figured that the news would come best from me.” Kamukura shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to look confused about the situation. 

“Probably. I mean, he is obsessed with you.” Souda reminded, laughing when Izuru blushed and left the lobby. Kamukura went around to the parking lot and found Peko, who was leaning against a motorcycle and staring at a point in the distance. Just to test her reflexes, Izuru threw the scanner at her. She caught it without even having to move her head before tossing him a helmet and the gun. 

“Do you know the way?” Peko asked. 

“Of course I do.” He lied. Izuru figured it would be more fun to figure it out as he went. He threw on the helmet and started the bike, the only big surprise of the day occurring when Peko hopped on behind him. He knew it would happen, that she would get on the bike and wrap her arms around him so that she wouldn’t fall, but knowing and experiencing were two different things. It was the first time someone touched him without some sort of strange intention behind it. The scratches of his victims, the slaps and kisses of Junko Enoshima, the uncomfortably worshipping caresses of Komaeda, all of it made him feel violent at best and nothing and worst. This was an apprehensive, trusting touch that almost made him crash the motorcycle within two seconds until he got his bearings and started to drive, trying to ignore the fact that this was also the first time someone was trusting him to do something objectively the right thing to do. Someone thought he was capable of goodness, and even if Peko didn’t like him and Izuru didn’t like anyone, he was almost thankful for the fact that she trusted him. 

“If you crash this thing, Mondo’s going to kill both of us.” Peko reminded. 

“We have bigger problems than upsetting your future brother-in-law.” Izuru muttered, deciding that the speed limit could go to hell as he began to dodge pedestrians and weave through as much traffic as he could because it was just more fun that way. “Much bigger problems.”


	22. Close (But Not Close Enough)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here it is! Another chapter for y'all, beta'd by the awesome Ramix! I can't believe this story is wrapping up so quickly oh my goodness. Anyways, thanks for reading, let me know what you think, aaaaaand have a good day!

Izuru and Peko rode in silence for a while, both too lost in their thoughts to think of something to say. Izuru’s thoughts were rather simple: he was just trying to figure out how to ride a motorcycle. He knew he must have done it before, that he must have either been the one driving the motorcycle or the one riding when it crashed and left him with no memories, so he knew that he had the information stored _somewhere_ in his brain. Izuru just needed to figure out how to apply it and how to avoid getting pulled over. Both of those things were much easier in theory than they were in real life, but the thrill of knowing that he could fail at any time, that he could ruin it all or save the day based on how well he did, that made whatever was about to happen next worth it. He actually smiled as he drove, enjoying the feeling of the wind in his face as he wove through traffic.

Peko, meanwhile, was all but consumed with worry. Somewhere in the city, two of the people she cared about more than anything were about to be held hostage to play a small part in Junko Enoshima’s great and terrible plan and there was nothing that she could do about it for at least half an hour. She couldn’t help but think about how betrayed they would feel or about how scared they would be or about all the different ways they could get into trouble and the ways that everything could go wrong. She briefly considered vocalizing these concerns, but she decided that it was the worst idea that she ever had within ten seconds. She knew enough about Izuru Kamukura to know that he would mock her concerns at best and tell her that they were legitimate at worst. 

She didn’t find it necessary to say anything to him until traffic suddenly stopped. They nearly hit the back of the car in front of them and after Peko recovered from the shock of her head hitting the back of Izuru’s shoulder, she looked up and sighed. “What’s the issue?”

“Traffic accident.” Izuru said. “I would guess it’ll cause a delay of...half an hour? An hour, maybe?”

Peko allowed herself to feel pure anger in that moment, an anger that turned the whole world red and brought pressure to her chest and made her want to cry. “Fuck!” She exclaimed, her voice echoing around the busy streets. “What do you mean, half an hour?”

“I _mean_ it’ll take half an hour if we wait here.” He sighed. “If we take a short cut, though…”

“Short cut?” Peko asked, looking around the street and trying to find a passage. The only thing she saw that resembled anything close to a short cut was a small alley that they would have to squeeze through two lanes of traffic to get through. Apparently that was exactly what he meant because Izuru gunned the engine and weaved his way towards it. Peko held on for dear life as he drove, going far too fast for her to be comfortable.

“Tuck your elbows in.” He warned once they actually got into the alley, which was cramped and dingy and reminded Peko of a scene from an old crime noir. She followed these instructions as Izuru sped through the alley, avoiding rats and dumpsters and the angry shouts of people who they were passing. One of them grabbed their phone, presumably to call the police, but Peko placed one hand on the sword strapped to her back and they slowly put the phone down. 

It looked like they were going to be able to re-enter traffic just in front of the accident without any major incidents until just a few feet before the exit. A large dumpster blocked most of the way out and they wouldn’t be able to squeeze the bike through the small gap between the wall and the dumpster. 

“What exactly are you planning to do about this?” Peko asked, sitting up straighter and wishing that she could look at Izuru’s face so that she could have something visual to give her a clue as to what was happening. 

“Hold on.” was the only hint that he gave as he sped up. It took less than a second for Peko to realize what he was doing and she followed that instruction, knowing full well that it would be a waste of breath to try and convince him not to. They were going to fly over this dumpster no matter what she said, and the best thing that she could do was accept her fate and try to minimize the damage. This realization pissed her off something awful, since that was what she had done for most of her life and she surely wasn’t going to go back into that pattern, but sometimes it was necessary for her grin and bear it. She would give him the fifth degree once they survived. 

Peko squeezed her eyes shut as they got closer and closer to it, not wanting the last thing she saw to be a shitty back alley in an area of town she typically avoided in the case that they hit the dumpster head on and died. Izuru used a skateboard that someone had left lying around as a ramp and soon they were in the air, making it over the dumpster by less than an inch. Izuru was laughing, a loud and free sound that brought shivers to her spine and made Peko want to vomit. She stayed silent until they landed and managed to enter traffic once more. 

“What the fuck was that, Kamukura?” She demanded, taking a deep breath and going through the list of reasons that she shouldn’t take out her sword and stab him.

“Me, saving your ass.” He said with a shrug. “You should probably be thankful.”

“There was at least three other ways we could have gotten out of there and you decided to take the way that could kill us.” Peko reminded. “I’ll thank you for a lot, but that isn’t one of them.”

“I know. But that was the most fun way.” He said that like it excused everything, like the idea of something being fun was more important than the idea of surviving it. Peko knew that she ought to feel bad for him, that he felt so dead that the only thing he found exciting was near death experiences and plotting to kill large groups of people on the promise that he might enjoy the carnage, but at that moment, she was just pissed. That just seemed to make him even happier, which made Peko want to hit her head against a wall. 

“As soon as this is resolved, you’re getting a therapist.” She told him, not giving Izuru a choice in the matter. 

“I wish them luck in advance.” Izuru said. “Now should I go left, or right?”

“I thought you said that you knew the way.” She said, raising her eyebrows. 

“I lied. Now left, or right?” Izuru asked, and Peko sighed loudly. 

“Left. Go left.”

They turned left and Peko tried not to scream as she thought about what else he lied about and how it could jeopardize their plan. She failed. 

***

Meanwhile, the Kuzuryuu house was in a state that could best be described as disarray. Everything was looking to be a relatively normal and quiet night until the clock struck eight. Manabu was in the living room at the time, smoking a cigar and reading through a few reports. Hisako, his wife, was napping on the couch next to him with a magazine on top of her face which was an image so charming and ridiculous that he couldn’t help but feel his anger at her subside. He was always some degree of mad at his wife, but at that moment, he was less mad than usual. He figured that Fuyuhiko and Natsumi were in their rooms, getting up to whatever nonsense teenagers got up to these days, and his servants were going about their business and everything was going to be just fine. He heard the clock strike eight and then suddenly, the world shifted. 

There was a gunshot between the chimes of the clock, one that caused him to get up from his seat and let the cigar fall to the floor. Hisako sat up, looking around in confusion. 

“My god, what’s happened?!” She asked, getting up from the couch and heading towards the noise. Manabu grabbed her wrist and shook his head, asking her silently not to go towards it. 

“Oh, don’t look at me like that! What if it was one of the children, huh?!” Hisako pulled her arm away and started running towards it, calling out Fuyuhiko and Natsumi’s names every few seconds. Manabu followed her, passing by a few very confused maids. 

“Don’t just stand there! Find Sakakura and the children and get them out of here!” He shouted at the trio, who scattered and started looking for them. 

They didn’t have to look very far. Natsumi came bounding down the stairs, her hair still half wet from a shower and a bathrobe tossed loosely over her mismatched pajamas as she brandished her knife. Fuyuhiko was right behind him, holding a bat and ready to face whatever threat was in their home. 

“Mom!” Natsumi yelled once she spotted her. “Mom, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” She admitted, ushering her forward and kissing her on the forehead and then kissing her son in the same spot. “I’m just glad that you’re safe. But where’s Sakakura?” 

“I thought he was with you guys.” Fuyuhiko said. “Hey, fucker! Where are you?” He shouted into the empty hall. 

“Language.” Manabu scolded, earning himself a glare from his children.

“Sakakura might’ve been _shot_ , Dad! Now is not the time to freak out about _swearing_!” Natsumi rolled her eyes and continued running towards the noise, earning herself scolding from all members of her gathered family. 

It was Natsumi who found Sakakura. She ran right into him, hitting her head off of his back and falling flat on the floor. “Sakakura! There you a--” She interrupted her sentence when Sakakura turned around, pointing a gun right at her. 

“Put the knife down, Natsumi, and all of this will be just fine.” He focused on keeping his voice even, on not causing more harm than was necessary, but Juzo threw that away when Natsumi ignored his order and lunged at him. She managed to stab him with that sparkling pink butterfly knife, digging it into his kneecap and spinning it around. Juzo screamed in pain and them retaliated by shooting her in the hand so that she was forced to let go of that. 

“You ASSHOLE! WHAT THE FUCK!?” She screamed, moving backwards to get away from him and cradling her injured hand. Sakakura grabbed her by the collar of her shirt and pressed a gun to her head, limping his way towards the other three Kuzuryuus. 

“Alright. I don’t really--Fuck!--I really don’t want to do this, but you’re going to do what I say or else I’m going to have to shoot her in the head.” He told them.

“Let go of my daughter, you son of a bitch.” Manabu hissed at him. 

“I’m very sorry, sir, but I can’t do that.” Juzo looked away from his boss, who was so pissed that he could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. “If I don’t do this, Munakata--”

“Fuck Munakata!” Fuyuhiko interjected. “He’s a useless piece of shit and you mean nothing to him! Let whoever the fuck is going to hurt Munakata hurt Munakata, but let go of my sister or I swear to god, I’m going to take this bat and I’m going to shove it so far up your ass that it’ll come out of the top of your head!” 

Juzo just shook his head at that threat, which only served to make Fuyuhiko more pissed and try to lunge at him by the bat. He was stopped by his mother, who said something about her not wanting her other child to get hurt in this mess that he didn’t clearly hear over the blood rushing to his ears. 

Sakakura started heading towards the living room, dragging along a shrieking Natsumi who was trying to bite his hand to get him to let go of the gun. The only thing she got for her troubles was a chipped tooth. Juzo was limping and occasionally swore thanks to the knife sticking out of his knee. One of the maids walked in on the sight and fainted, which just made Juzo sigh as he threw Natsumi onto the couch. “Sit down and don’t move.” He ordered the Kuzuryuus, which they did. Fuyuhiko was careful to make sure that the cigar on the floor wasn’t burning before he took a look at his sister’s hand. He remembered that she used to get offers to be a model for hand model companies and realized that would be no more. She seemed to realize that too, as he heard something about commercials in the middle of her sobbing. 

Hisako and Manabu sat across from their children, watching with concern as Fuyuhiko tried to stop the bleeding and Natsumi cried. “What do you want? Money? Jewels? Business contacts?” Manabu asked, glaring at Juzo who was still pointing the gun at Natsumi. 

“Nothing. I’m just trying to follow Junko’s orders.” He said with a shrug. “I just...Find a few servants. Tell one of them to grab all the rope they can find, and tell another one to get bandages. The third one you find, tell them to collect everyone’s cellphones. I already cut the phone lines, but just in case.” 

Manabu got up and started to do that, hating the fact that he was actually following these orders, but also realizing that this was the best way to keep his daughter from getting shot in the head. 

“Junko’s orders?” Fuyuhiko asked once his father left. “What do you mean, Junko’s orders? What does she have to do with this?”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said she was dangerous.” Sakakura said. “This is all part of her plan.”

“What’s her plan?” Natsumi asked, finally able to stop crying from the pain in her hand. “What does she want from us?!”

“I wish I knew.” He said, sighing as he checked the gun to check how many bullets he had left. Sakakura had seven, which would be enough to kill the Kuzuryuus, Junko, a few of her main lackeys, and himself. That was all he needed. “I really wish that I knew.”

***

While Izuru and Peko were approaching the Kuzuryuu house and Fuyuhiko, Natsumi, and their parents were adjusting to being under siege, Junko was pacing. Something was up. Something was up and it was something she didn’t like, not one bit. She knew that Mikan was up to something, that everything had been a ploy, but she wasn’t sure what the thing was. Junko thought that maybe Izuru had something to do with it, but it was hard to tell with him. Izuru was weird enough already; figuring out when he was “acting weird” was next to impossible. But Mikan...something was up there and Junko knew that it was nothing good. 

Mikan pretended to be pacified by Junko’s words and was now laying on her bed, talking aimlessly about how awful Monaca was. It achieved nothing for either party, but she did it anyway to try and make what she did seem a little bit less terrible. 

“Hey, Mikan.” Junko began, flopping down next to her. “Grab my phone, won’t you? I want to text Sakakura and see how things are going.”

“S-sure.” She said, getting up from the bed and looking around. “Um, Junko, where is your phone?”

“Should be by the end of the bed. That’s where I left it.” She told Mikan with a yawn, watching her out of the corner of her eye. 

“Um, Junko? I don--I don’t think it’s here.” Mikan told her, panic rising in her voice. Except not really. She didn’t sound nearly as panicked as she normally would be. Junko liked to think that maybe despair had made her a bit more stoic, but she knew otherwise. 

“What do you mean, you don’t think it’s here?” Junko started looking at the end of the bed and found that indeed, there was no phone. She tore off all of the covers and shook them out. Still no phone. She checked under the bed and found that it wasn’t there and neither was the police scanner. 

“The scanner. The fucking scanner is gone!” She began to tear apart her room with the mania of a caged animal finally let free, rifling through all of her things and throwing them when they turned out not to be what she was looking for. Mikan knew where it was and knew that the search was fruitless, but she participated in it anyhow. She helped Junko tear apart the room and put it back together, hoping to buy time until Chisa showed up. When the clicking of high heels began to echo down the hall, Junko threw her jewelry stand and then grabbed Mikan by the collar. 

“You’re up to something. I know you’re up to something, Tsumiki! As soon as Kamukura--oh, don’t tell me you’re doing this to impress him, are you? Trying to make things interesting for Kamukura, huh? Well, it isn’t going to work. Who else is in on this? Pekoyama? Mioda? Komaeda? Fucking tell me! And give me your phone. I’m calling the kill order.” Junko ordered, pushing Mikan against the wall, too. 

“I don’t know where my phone is!” Mikan lied through her tears, sliding onto the floor and bringing her knees up to her chest. “I don’t know, Junko!”

Junko smirked and reached into Mikan’s pocket, pulling out the phone. “Kamukura didn’t think that one through, did he? When he was helping you, he didn’t consider that I would just ask for your phone. What a dumbass! Or maybe he did. Maybe this is what he _wanted_. But hell, who knows?!” She let out a laugh that was more a scream than anything else before she started in typing every single number that she could remember that looked vaguely like Sakakura’s and waited for a response. 

“Junko?” Chisa said, knocking on the door once before entering. She surveyed the disarray, the sobbing Mikan, the phone in Junko’s hand, and what Kyosuke told her. None of it added up to anything good. “Junko, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“No.” Junko said, turning her back on Yukizome. “I don’t feel like it.”

“That’s too bad!” Yukizome said with false cheerfulness. “If you don’t want to come to my office, then I can just talk to you here. Mikan, honey, why don’t you go visit with Chiaki? I think she needs some girl time, yeah?”

“Y-Yeah!” Mikan glowed at the suggestion of hanging out with Chiaki and ran for the door before Junko could stop her, but before she went to go see Chiaki, she had to go find Kiyotaka or Mondo or _someone_. Then she could rest with Chiaki and have fun and be something close to normal again. 

With Mikan gone, Junko stretched out and grinned, pretending to be at ease. She was on the side of the bed closest to the nightstand, and she always kept one thing within reach on her nightstand, even if it was hidden from view thanks to a giant pile of magazines. It was just a few inches away and by the time that she had it in her hands, it would be too late. 

“I know.” Yukizome said, her tone suddenly becoming professional and teacher-esque. “I know what you’re planning and--Junko, put that do--”

Chisa was cut off by a stab to the throat. The fact that she was choking on blood prohibited her from screaming loudly enough that anyone would hear her. Junko laughed as she watched her bleed, mindlessly flipping through a magazine and waiting for Juzo to text her back so that she could order the kill. Her only hope was that Juzo would record it, because she loved the bloodshed and had loved it for a long, long time. Junko had no other choice in the matter because otherwise, it would destroy her, and she couldn’t afford that.


	23. Breaking the Fever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, guys!!! The last chapter before the epilogue!! I'll do a big giant note for the next chapter, but just know that I'm so grateful for all of you ^^ Let me know what you think and thanks so much!

The motorcycle pulled up to the Kuzuryuu mansion almost half an hour after the first gunshot and Peko hopped off the instant it came to a stop. She looked up at the place she used to call home and frowned at it, searching for a clear way in and trying to guess exactly where in the house the Kuzuryuu family was being kept. Were they locked in the basement? The attic? Sitting around the kitchen table? Stuck in one of the bedrooms? Or maybe they were in one of the bathrooms, or maybe they were kept apart. There was no way to tell exactly where they were from the outside unless she and Izuru got close enough to the windows to peer in, but that would also mean getting close enough to get shot. Then again, Izuru had a gun that he could use to retaliate, but how willing was he to use it?

“What’s your plan?” Izuru asked, looking up at the large house and thinking of at least six ways to get in, but he was curious which one Peko would choose. 

“We’ll go around back and break in through the servant entrance. The spare key is kept underneath the third stone to the right of the door. Sakakura probably doesn’t have the resources to hold the whole household hostage, so we’ll ask the first servant we find where everyone is being held. Once we find out, we grab whatever hidden weapons we can along the way to where they are, give the weapons to everyone we can find, and we go in. Depending on how many people we get, either one or both of us will distract Sakakura while the others free the Kuzuryuu family and sneak them out. If it’s only the two of us, you can do whichever one you think is more interesting.” Peko couldn’t help but make a face at the word _interesting_ , remembering all of the times that Izuru had done something ridiculous for the sake of that one concept. 

Izuru nodded at her idea, moving the gun from one hand to the other as Peko spoke. “Hm. Alright.” He shrugged, analyzing her plan against the other ones he had come up with. It wasn’t the most effective, but it was one of the most dangerous ones, so he would go with it. “Until then, how are we going to avoid setting off any of the security traps? Certainly they’ve changed them since you left.”

She frowned at the house, figuring out the best way to go about that when she had no idea what to expect and what had been upgraded in her absence. “The security guards wouldn’t listen to Sakakura unless the mas--unless Manabu told them to. Even then, they would hesitate enough that you could get a good shot in if needed. The rest of the house staff knows how to shoot, but they don’t exactly keep guns on their person at all time, so as long as you keep ahold of that thing, we should be okay. As for any traps outside of the house...We just have to step carefully and watch for cameras and then destroy any that we find.”

Izuru reached up to move a piece of hair from his face before remembering that it was gone, that he was still stuck with the looks of Hajime Hinata and so there was no curtain of hair to move. He made a mental note to ask Hajime to grow his hair out via a note before he started heading towards the house. Peko took her sword out from its bag and walked beside him, focusing on finding and avoiding traps. They walked in silence, not wanting to warn anyone of their arrival. The closer they got to the house, the more nervous Peko became. She watched people that she knew close every window and draw the curtains closed, prohibiting anyone from seeing what was going on inside. She was able to make eye contact with Kirumi, who was a maid about her age, and Kirumi nodded once, indicating that she saw Peko and was going to keep her mouth shut about her breaking and entering. Peko nodded back and she drew the curtain closed, leaving no way for light to enter the house. 

They eventually reached the servant entrance and Peko turned over the rock, not only finding the key but also a small handgun. She knew that they hid a handgun in the kitchen, but the one outside must have been a new decision. It seemed smart, after all. If one lost their key, they probably lost their weapon, too. Peko grabbed the key and put it in her pocket before reaching for the gun. Izuru let out a small sigh, one that she almost didn’t notice as she grabbed the gun and was instantly electrocuted. She was frozen there, electricity coursing through her and burning her hands and making it hard to breathe. Izuru waited for five seconds before deciding to help her, just long enough that it wouldn’t cause any permanent injury, but long enough that it would hurt. 

“You’re a special kind of stupid.” He said, forcing the sword into her burnt hands. Peko bit down on her lip to keep from screaming and took a deep breath. Breathing hurt, but she kept doing it because she had no other choice. 

“You knew.” Peko realized, her tone more aggressive than she intended. Pissing off Izuru was a bad idea, but he didn’t seem mad at her for expressing her anger. He just seemed mildly amused, as if he just watched a dog chase its own tail and then bite down on it. It was absolutely infuriating and it was all she could do not to point the sword at his throat. “You knew it was rigged.”

“Of course I did. I just wanted to see if you actually thought it was real.” He shrugged, taking the key and heading towards the door. Izuru looked as if he was going to unlock it, but then he dropped the key and kicked the door in. It made an unimaginably loud bang as it hit the floor and Izuru smirked at the doorway, rather proud of his achievement.

Peko straightened her shoulders and forced herself to grip the katana tighter before addressing him. “Please refrain from doing anything that would bring unnecessary attention to us. You’ll get both of us killed if you do something like that again.”

“I don’t think I’d mind that.” Izuru admitted, and Peko felt something like pity before she walked past him and entered the mansion. 

***

Mikan Tsumiki paced back and forth in the lobby of Hope’s Peak Halfway House, unwilling and unable to explain to those gathered what was going on. The place was on lockdown after what happened to Monaca, and the only time that the door would open was to let in another resident who was out when Monaca was found dead. And so Mikan was stuck waiting for Mondo and Kiyotaka, who were the only people she believed could do anything in this situation. Unless…

Ibuki returned, looking around the lobby in confusion. “Eh?! Why’s everyone mopin’ about? Did something happen?”

“Did you not hear about Monaca?” Hiyoko said, sneering up at Ibuki. She and Mahiru had already returned their weapons earlier that day and so could safely relax. At least, they could relax in theory,in reality, both of them were suspicious. 

“Uhhhhhhhh, no?” She said, straightening her bookbag. Mikan tried to remember exactly what weapons she had in there as Mahiru explained what happened. The thing that stuck out in her memory was the gun in Ibuki’s bookbag.. It was a tiny little thing if Mikan remembered right, but it would be loaded. 

“I-Ibuki, y-you should probably get a shower, yeah?” Mikan approached her, trying to comfort the weeping Ibuki. She felt like crying too, but Mikan couldn’t afford to do that now. 

“Probably.” Ibuki rubbed her eyes and took a deep breath. “God, what they did to that kid...That poor little kid…”

“Come on.” Mikan said, leading her away by the hand and heading to Ibuki’s room. Once the door was shut behind them, Mikan took a deep breath and grabbed Ibuki by the collar.

“Give me the gun.” She said, trying to sound as authoritative and strong as possible. She didn’t sound solemn and stoic like Peko or girlish and threatening like Junko, but there was a certainty to her voice that was tinged with concern that showed she was not messing around. Mikan had always been quiet and shy and afraid of turmoil, but there were lives on the line, this was no time to be quiet.

“What gun?” Ibuki asked, clearly lying through her teeth. 

“You know which gun.” Mikan insisted, tightening her grip on Ibuki’s collar. “I don’t want to hurt you, but a lot of people...A lot of people are going to get very hurt if you don’t give me that gun as soon as possible.”

“What people?” She asked, slipping the bag off of her shoulders so that it was on the ground. “How do you know about this?”

“I don’t have time to explain, but once everything’s over, I promise that I will.” Mikan let go of her collar and started rifling through the bag before pulling out the pistol and seeing that it was fully loaded. “You just have to trust me.”

Ibuki frowned at Mikan, sitting down on her bed and trying to think if she could really trust her. She always knew Mikan to be easy to manipulate and quick to get upset and excessively loyal to Junko, but this Mikan seemed different. The only other time she ever saw Mikan look like that was when she was taking care of someone who was seriously sick, and she never failed when the life of a patient was in her hands. 

“I trust you.” Ibuki said, closing her eyes and hoping that she made the right choice. 

“Thank you.” Mikan walked over to Ibuki, gave her a kiss on the cheek, and then walked out of the room. She had a duty to try and right what she had done wrong and she was starting it right then and there. 

***

Junko was laying on her bed, staring up at Mikan’s phone and waiting for any of the numbers she thought were Sakakura’s to respond when she heard a knock on the door.

“Who is it?” She yelled, getting up to kick Chisa to shut up her coughing before laying back down. 

“It’s me.” Mikan said from the other side of the room and Junko threw the phone at the door to try and scare her off. 

“What do you want, traitor?!” She shrieked, glaring at the door as she saw the phone light up. Terrified at the possibility that Mikan would take it, Junko got back up and picked it up. The message was just another rejection and she huffed in irritation. 

“Let me in so I can talk to you. I promise I can explain.” Some of the desperate whine made it into Mikan’s voice and against her better judgement, Junko opened the door because she wanted to figure it out. She wanted to know what Mikan was up to. The last thing she expected was a pistol pointed right in her face. 

“You’ll let me in, yeah?” Mikan said, putting some false cheerfulness in her voice. Junko took a step back and let her in. She kept the pistol pointed at Junko, nodding once at Chisa and shutting the door behind her. 

“What do you think you’re going to do with that, huh?” Junko mocked, sneering down at her. “You’re gonna shoot me?”

“I-If I have to.” Mikan hated her stutter and the subtle way that her hand shook, but she knew that she would do it if she needed to. More than she loved Junko, she hated what she had done. “Give me the phone.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot me? My plan’s already in place.” She crossed her arms and stuck out her tongue, looking positively childish. “You shoot me and everything will still happen.”

“But if I shoot you, you don’t get to see the despair, do you? You’ll die in your bedroom and it’ll be _booooooooooring_.” Mikan drew out the word and watched Junko flinch at the possibility of missing the carnage. Despite her earlier statement, Junko knew that causing despair would be no fun if she didn’t get to see it herself. 

“Fine. What do you want?” She asked, turning her head away so that she wasn’t looking at Mikan. 

“Sakakura. When he texts you, call him back. Put him on voicemail and don’t call the signal.” Mikan demanded, still not quite over the novelty of being able to demand things. Junko nodded, seeming beyond upset by the situation. Eventually, Sakakura texted them back and under Mikan’s watchful eye, Junko called him. 

***

The call came about an hour into the whole hostage situation and things had quieted significantly. There was a pile of weapons that had been gathered from around the house and next to that was a pile of the servant’s cell phones. Natsumi’s hand had been successfully bandaged and her knife removed from Juzo’s knee. Everything would have been going perfectly if not for the call and the fact that just a minute before, a servant reported hearing a loud bang from downstairs. 

Sakakura answered the phone and pressed it to his ear, bracing for the order to take the pictures and then kill the entire family. “What do you want, Enoshima? And what’s with the new phone number?”

“ _Someone_ stole my phone.” She complained. “And my police scanner. And probably the notebook from--Wait a minute.” 

“...Okay.” Juzo said, wondering what it was she needed to do. He heard her say something and another girl’s voice respond and then he heard Junko scream, a sound that made him pull the phone away from his ear and cringe. “What the hell was that?!”

“IT WAS TOTALLY PEKOYAMA. OH MY GOD.” Junko shrieked directly in the phone. “She stole the phone! And the police scanner! And...No. She wouldn’t be stupid enough to actually--Or maybe she’s just stupid enough to? How would she have even gotten them? There’s no way that Mikan was smart enough to steal them from me and she would’ve had to done it today so it must have been…No. NO!”

Growing sick of Junko screaming directly into his ear, Sakakura put her on speakerphone and placed the phone on a table. While Junko screamed utter nonsense, Fuyuhiko decided to address his captor-by-proxy. She was the only way that he could see of getting to Peko, of letting her know that he loved her and wanted her to be happy. His family was here with him, so there was no need for him to immortalize his last words to them. 

“Hey, Enoshima!” He called out, waiting for some sort of indication that she heard him. 

“What?” She said, sounding irate beyond words. “Nothing you say is going to stop me from killing you.”

“But you won’t be killing him.” A voice intoned from the phone, one that Fuyuhiko didn’t clearly recognize. 

“And who the fuck are you?” He asked, wondering who was powerful enough or stupid enough to order around Junko Enoshima. 

“Oh, I’m Mikan! Mikan Tsumiki! I’m stopping Junko from doing stuff.” She said, sounding oddly sheepish. “And as of right now, the main stuff is making sure you guys don’t get killed!” 

“Oh...Thanks, I guess.” Fuyuhiko said. “I guess that makes my planned dying message a little worthless. Unless...How the fuck are you doing that?!”

“I have a gun to her head.” Mikan said nonchalantly. “If I hear four gunshots, I shoot her, no questions asked.” 

“Go Mikan!” Natsumi cheered. “So, problem solved?”

“No!” Junko said. “Far from it. No matter what Mikan says, you aren’t leaving alive. Right, Sakakura? Because if he _doesn’t_ kill you, my men will kill Munakata. They know what to do.”

“You have no way of contacting them. You lost your phone.” Juzo reminded her, allowing himself to feel hopeful for just a second. It looked like there was finally an out for this situation. 

“But my mole does!” Junko said, giggling maniacally. “You think I don’t have a mole in the Kuzuryuu staff with their numbers? Of course I do! Oh, don’t look so _shocked_ , Mikan, of course I didn’t tell you everything! And none of you better be making that face, either, it’s such a boring reaction! So, back to business. If the Kuzuryuu family doesn’t die within the next...Hm, what time is it? Okay. Within the next five minutes. If they don’t die within the next five minutes, they’ll make the call! And they wouldn’t have turned in their burner, stupid, because nobody would’ve asked for it.”

A silence fell in the room as she finished speaking. The Kuzuryuu family looked at each other, tied up and trapped with no weapons and no clear way out. None of them wanted to die here, to die like this. They all had so much left to do, so much left to fix. Manabu watched his life flash before his eyes and realized that he still had a thousand things to make up to people, a million people who deserved better than he gave them, and he would die without ever repaying those debts. Hisako realized that she would never get to finish raising her kids or running her sector of the business or achieve anything close to happiness in this life. Natsumi had nothing to lose, but everything to gain. She was young and beautiful and clever, far too clever to die here. She could’ve done anything, Natsumi could’ve been a successful businesswoman, a secret agent, a famous blogger, hell, she could’ve been a cop if she wanted, but now she wouldn’t do anything other than die and her dreams would die with her. And Fuyuhiko knew he was going to die with most of his potential unrealized and all of his love left unsaid. Even if he said it now, Junko wouldn’t pass on the message. She never would’ve passed on the message. He would die as a coward. Fuyuhiko didn’t want to die as a coward. He didn’t want to die at all.

Manabu opened his mouth to say something but Natsumi cut him off. “Don’t do it, Dad. Don’t do that dramatic last words bullshit! We’re not gonna die here, you hear me? We’re not dying here! Junko’s lying to us!”

“And what proof do you have of that?” Junko asked, her smirk almost audible through the phone. 

Natsumi paused, trying to think of an actual reason why what Junko said was invalid. 

“Sakakura...Don’t do this, man.” Fuyuhiko said. “Is this what Munakata would want? For you to kill us and then go to jail for the rest of your life?”

Juzo seemed to hesitate at those words, staring down at the gun. Four shots. Five, maybe, if offing himself was a better fate than jail. It would just be four shots. It wouldn’t be hard. He knew how to shoot. Just four shots. It would take a minute, less than a minute. 

“Huh? Is that what he would want? Because if so, the fucker isn’t worth it. He isn’t worth this! Would he kill for you? Would he?” Fuyuhiko insisted, figuring that maybe he could talk Juzo out of it. Maybe there was still a chance. 

“Munakata…” Juzo said softly, closing his eyes for half of a second before opening them again. His choice was made the second he heard the name. There was no price he wouldn’t pay for Munakata. So Juzo took a deep breath, raised the gun, and pointed it at Fuyuhiko. It seemed like mercy to kill him first. That way, he wouldn’t have to see what would happen next, and it was the only act of kindness he could perform in that moment. 

And then there was a noise from outside the room. Footsteps, two--no, three sets of them. Sakakura turned his gun towards the door, away from Fuyuhiko. There were whispers,a girl’s voice was audible, but the words she spoke were hard to hear. And then the doorknob, it moved, like someone was trying to open it. Sakakura fired his gun in the direction of the door and missed it by and inch. Someone outside fired a warning shot to the ceiling in response. Then the same girl’s voice, scolding the shooter quietly. Fuyuhiko allowed himself to hope for just a second more. And then the door, it swung open, revealing Kirumi, Izuru, and Peko.

Kirumi ran towards her masters, diving behind the couch before working on the rope that kept Natsumi tied up. Izuru (who confused Fuyuhiko greatly--he looked like Hajime, and yet the way he moved was so _not_ Hajime) dropped the gun and started untying Fuyuhiko. That left Peko. 

“Peko.” Fuyuhiko whispered, looking at the girl who had come to save him again. There she was, school uniform on and ribbons in her hair and a katana held in her burnt hands. She lunged at Sakakura, ducking down when he aimed for her chest and slicing across his stomach. He doubled over as he bled and she kicked him in the throat. The curtain opened slightly as Juzo landed on the ground, letting in a small ray of moonlight. 

“What’s happening in there?!” Junko demanded, frustrated by the sound of fighting. This was a hostage situation. No one should be fighting. 

“Something interesting.” Izuru said, undoing the final knot and then picking up his gun, trying to get a clear shot on Sakakura. 

“Put that down! You’ll shoot Peko, dumbass!” Natsumi scolded once she was finally untied. 

“No.” Izuru said, watching as Fuyuhiko grabbed a gun from the pile. 

“Peko!” Mikan said happily. “You guys made it!”

Peko was occupied with stopping Sakakura, who managed to get her on the ground. She moved backwards, biting down on her lip to avoid screaming. Her hands were in agony, but she couldn’t let go of the sword, not now. The pain radiated all the way up to her elbows, but she couldn’t afford to focus on that. What she focused on was Juzo’s knee, the one he was already limping on. From her position on the ground, it would be easy to slice that knee and the stumble that would cause would be just enough to cut off the hand that held the gun. She inhaled through her nose and closed her eyes, trying to look like she accepted her death. That was enough to make him take a step forwards, and that was all she needed. 

Peko sprung forward, slicing open Sakakura’s kneecap. At the same time, Izuru shot his other knee, missing Peko’s head by half an inch. He started to fall backwards and Peko took advantage of that brief moment to cut off his hand. Juzo started to scream and Peko kicked the gun away before dropping her sword and taking a few stumbling steps backwards. Fuyuhiko ran towards her and wrapped her up in the closest thing to a bear hug he was capable of giving when she was nearly six inches taller than him. 

“I owe you my life, Peko. I owe you my life _again_.” He muttered, almost in tears because he was so happy not to be dead. 

“You owe me nothing.” She told him, trying to hug him back without actually moving her arms, which was essentially impossible. Fuyuhiko let go of her and smiled before looking at her hands. 

“Shut up, I owe you everything. And even if I don’t owe it to you, you still deserve it. But I thought I asked you not to put yourself in danger!” He scolded, looking at the burns and wincing. Fuyuhiko didn’t know too much about burns, but those looked like they hurt. “And what happened to your hands? Jesus Christ, how far up does that burn even go?”

“You were literally being held hostage,I felt that it was safe to ignore that request.” Peko raised her eyebrows and incredulously, Fuyuhiko laughed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sakakura start to crawl towards the gun and he turned around and shot the trigger clean off of the gun in question. 

“Um. I’m going to put this gun down now, I think Monomi is coming and Junko’s just been rocking back and forth and muttering stuff about despair. She also threw the phone again and--oh dear, looks like I’ll have to fix the screen later.” Mikan said. “So, everyone there is good?”

“Everyone is alive.” Izuru said. “I don’t know about good, but definitely alive. Both of Peko’s hands are burnt, and the burns look like they travel to midway up her forearm. Sakakura got shot in the knee, stabbed in the other knee twice, took a slice to the stomach, and is now missing a hand. And Natsumi got shot in the hand. I believe an ambulance is in order.”

“I’m on it.” Hisako said once Kirumi finished untying her. She found her phone in the pile and started to dial 911. 

“Good! Alright I’m going to--Oh, hi, Monomi!” With her greeting to Monomi, Mikan ended the call, although Peko could hear faintly what sounded like a scream before she hung up. It was then that she realized that something probably happened to Chisa, but she had been so focused on stopping the possible massacre that she hadn’t taken the time to process it. 

Once everyone was untied and free and some of the maids started attending to Sakakura’s injuries, Peko sat down on the couch and allowed herself to rest for a few seconds. Everything hurt and she was so tired. It was an exhaustion she felt clear down to the bone and it seemed to radiate from the very core of her being. 

“Girl.” Manabu said, and Peko instinctively sat up straight and looked at him. “I’ve been thinking of you lately, and I want to know something.”

“What do you want to know?” She asked, tilting her head slightly to the side. 

“I want to know what you want.” He said, sitting down next to her. “Do you want your job back? Compensation money? A castle in France? What exactly is it that you want from me?”

“I want to be friends with Fuyuhiko and Natsumi, so long as they want to be friends with me.” Peko said. “And I want to be called by my name. Not Girl. Not Tool. Peko. That’s what I want to be called. And I want some burn cream, if you have any.”

“I offer you the world, you ask for some burn cream.” Manabu muttered, half chuckling. “Maid, go get--”

“And I want you to call your staff by their names.” Peko interrupted. “At least while I’m around. They deserve that respect.”

He sighed, but he wasn’t about to lecture a girl who just saved his life. “Kirumi, go see if we have anything for burns while we wait for the ambulance. Please.”

“I’m on it, sir.” She said, giving Peko a slight smile as she went off to go find some burn cream. 

“So, like, you aren’t Hajime.” Natsumi announced. “But you look exactly like Hajime. Does he have a twin or something?”

“Not quite. I’m sure he’ll explain it when you see him next.” Izuru said, examining the broken gun. 

“Fuck that, I want to know now! I’m going to be stuck here with you until an ambulance shows up, so you better tell me!” She prodded, and Peko smiled as she watched the two of them go back and forth. Izuru made the same face that he made while driving the motorcycle while talking to Natsumi, who changed subjects almost as quickly as he could predict them. Fuyuhiko joined in on the interrogation, occasionally looking over at Peko as if checking to see if she was still there. 

“I realize that I haven’t always treated you properly.” Manabu said, looking at the girl who had just saved his life. “Hardly ever treated you properly, really. I was trying to look out for my family, and you ended up being mistreated because of it. I’m sorry.”

Peko didn’t respond to that statement, still not sure if she was ready to forgive him yet. She wasn’t sure if she was quite there, so she just shook her head and looked down at her shoes. “I’m glad you’re sorry about it. From what I understand, that’s a good thing.”

“You’re not going to forgive me?” He said incredulously, biting down his anger by reminding himself that Peko just saved his life and that blowing up at her now would hardly be beneficial. 

“Not yet. Maybe someday, but not right now.” She told him, swallowing the fear she felt by standing up to him directly. Manabu sighed, crossed his arms, and then got up to stand near his wife, who was still on the phone with the 911 operator. The ambulances arrived a few minutes later and Juzo was whirled away. Peko sat in the back of another ambulance, watching the EMT wrap up her arms and explaining what she would need to buy and how she would need to wrap the burns. Fuyuhiko sat down next to her, watching each step and taking notes on his phone. Once Peko was wrapped up and free to go, Fuyuhiko addressed her again.

“Do you need a ride home?” He asked, holding up the keys to the Ferrari that he stole from Togami. 

“If it’s not an issue. I think Izuru took the motorcycle and left.” She said, gesturing to the spot in the driveway where the bike had been. 

“That little asshole. I can’t fucking stand that guy! I owe him my life, but also, I wouldn’t hesitate to break his jaw behind a Wendy’s at three in the morning.” He muttered as they walked towards the garage. 

“That’s not an advisable course of action. I think he knows jiu jitsu.” Peko told him, unsure how accurate that was but not hesitating to believe that it was possible. 

“No way that fucker knows jiu jitsu, he’s a twig!” Fuyuhiko complained, opening the door open for her and not missing the fact that she blushed. Most of the ride consisted of Peko telling him increasingly ridiculous stories about Izuru and giving him directions to the Ishimaru’s house (Hope’s Peak would be too chaotic right now, as would her mother’s house, and the Ishimaru house had the distinct advantage of containing both Kiyotaka and Aimi). Fuyuhiko added in comments that made Peko laugh until she almost cried and compared him to more cryptids than she could keep track of. 

“Maybe Izuru really is mothman.” Peko said as she spotted the house in the distance. “This is going to be fun to explain to my stepmother.”

“Is she gonna be mad?” Fuyuhiko asked, worry crossing his face. 

“Worried. She cares about me quite a bit, it seems.” She shrugged and saw the porch light turn on, beckoning her to come inside. “I should probably go.”

“Yeah, probably.” He agreed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. 

In a rush of boldness, Peko leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you then.” He returned, blood rushing to his cheeks as he watched Peko approach the house, just wanting to make sure she got inside safely.

“Lucy! What happened to your hands? Come in dear, come in!” Aimi ushered her stepdaughter inside, waving once to the car she got out of to indicate her thankfulness. Fuyuhiko waved back and then drove away, hoping that one day, he would walk in with Peko and enter that house where every lamp was lit and every window was left open, but for now he was content to know that she was there and alive and reasonably happy.


	24. Exit, Stage Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After 5000 years, here's the epilogue! I'm sorry it took so long, school and depression both kicked my ass. But thank you all so much for your support! This story has helped me make so many friends and I'm so thankful for every kudos and bookmark and comment. But here it is! The end pf the end! I hope y'all enjoy ^^

It took nearly a week to sort out the mess of what happened. Peko spent almost all of her time at the police station, patiently answering questions that she had answered a thousand times already. Izuru was uncooperative until Chiaki talked to him for nearly three hours, and then he admitted everything he knew about Junko Enoshima. 

All the pieces came together in that week. Junko had thought of the plan soon after the murder of her sister. Junko had come up with blackmail. Junko was the puppetmaster, the mastermind, the one who had everything in the palm of her hand. Junko, Junko, Junko. Her name was on everyone’s lips and yet the girl in question stayed silent. She refused to talk for days and only communicated by screaming. The screams haunted her at first, but they also offered some sort of dull comfort. Junko was suffering just like the rest of them.

When Junko was finally officially arrested and the last accomplice was officially declared not an accomplice due to being under what the officers kept calling duress, Peko felt like she could finally breathe. 

The other half of the time was spent at the hospital. There had been a miscommunication between her and the EMTs in the direct aftermath of stopping Junko’s plan about what sort of burn she received and once the burns began to blister, she found herself in the burn unit listening to doctors talk about electrical burns and the rule of nines and what medications to put her on to stop the pain. The pain felt like it would never end. Every movement of the arm was agony now that the adrenaline had worn off entirely and Peko bit down on her lips to keep from screaming until she broke the skin. 

“Honey, you have to tell us when you’re in pain.” A kindly nurse told her, one with a full moon face and motherly eyes. Peko wasn’t sure if it was the magic of nurses or the painkillers that were starting to kick in again, but she seemed like an angel. 

“I’m trying.” She said, resting her head against the pillows and looking away from her. “I just haven’t quite figured out _how_.”

The nurse shook her head and moved a piece of hair away from her face. “You’ll learn.” She promised. “Now get some rest, and don’t even try moving your arms. If you want to read, call one of your people in and have them turn the pages.”

And so that’s what she did. When she wasn’t breaking hospital protocol by going to the station, someone was usually with her in the hospital. Kiyotaka, her parents, Mondo, Izuru, Mikan, Fuyuhiko, Natsumi, Monomi, Akane, and even Nekomaru stopped by to visit. Peko practiced asking all of these people for help and even when the words got stuck in her throat and saying them felt like chewing on glass, they helped. 

Everyone had their specific contributions, from Izuru’s matter-of-fact updates to Akane’s cheerful distractions, but Fuyuhiko was there the most and did a bit of everything. He turned the pages of books and made her laugh with his commentary. He told her what was going on in the world, everything from Natsumi’s plan to get a tattoo on her hand over the scar to Junko’s arrest. Fuyuhiko learned how to wrap up her hands, what creams to apply when, what medicines she had to take and when she ought to take them. When she was finally able to return to school, he carried her books until her hands healed a little more and sat out with her in gym class. Sometimes they spoke. Sometimes they didn’t. Either way, Peko appreciated it.

“Why are you doing all of this?” Peko asked one day, watching as he wrapped a fresh bandage around her left hand during lunch with a delicacy and patience that most people didn’t know he was capable of. “I mean, you don’t have to and I know that this isn’t exactly your favorite way to spend time.”

Fuyuhiko looked up at her and shook her head, continuing to wrap up her hand. “Because it’s for you.” He said, as if that explained everything. “If it’s for you, I’ll do it, even if these bandages are a fuck and I don’t know anything about medicine. Because it’s for you.”

She fell silent after that, looking down at his hands against the burnt flesh of hers. He was undeterred by the ugliness of them. Healing wasn’t always pretty. It usually wasn’t. And yet he was still there and Peko couldn’t help but love him for it.

***  
_The Chicago Times_

_December 20th, 2016_

**Teen accused of conspiracy to commit murder, attempted murder, murder in the first degree, blackmail, rape, and kidnapping to be charged as an adult**

In a dramatic hearing this Tuesday, a grand jury has decided that Junko Enoshima, age 15, will be charged as an adult for 40 counts of conspiracy to commit murder, 1 count of attempted murder, 25 counts of murder in the first degree, over 50 counts of blackmail, 1 count of rape, and 1 count of kidnapping.

When asked how she felt about the decision of the court, Natsumi Kuzuryuu (one of the many people who ended up being held hostage by Enoshima) told our reporter “Good riddance. I hope they beat her to death with a pen. Jesus Christ, I hate her! I hate so much.” She then went on to describe exactly what she would like to be done to Junko Enoshima with the aforementioned pen, the details of which cannot be published in a family newspaper. Her bond has been set at $20,000. It remains unpaid. 

***  
Four days after Junko’s grand jury hearing, they put on Junko’s musical. Or at least, Junko called it her musical. It had a technical owner, but the truth of the matter was that it didn’t belong to anyone. Peko ran around backstage and made sure everything was running smoothly. She helped girls into their costumes and told actors when they only had a minute to get on stage and reminded Kiyotaka about the last minute changes they made to the last scene because in the madness of trying to get the exact transcripts of the grand jury hearing, he forgot about tap dancing adjustments. When she could, Peko watched from backstage and silently cursed every time she saw a misstep. Luckily, there weren’t many. 

At the end of opening night, she watched her peers receive flowers and chocolates and a myriad of other gifts. To Peko’s surprise, someone left a bouquet of roses with her name on them. This came as a surprise to no one else.

***  
It snowed in Chicago that winter. With Elsie on her lap and homework scattered around her, Peko wondered if it would ever stop snowing or if it would just keep on going. She had 13 unanswered calls from people wanted interviews. Kiyotaka advised against Peko taking any of the offers and after considering his points and the chance that she would say something too kind about Junko, she took his suggestion. 

January, February, March. Snow and school and healing burns and a new musical to choreograph. There was little time to dwell on things like her parents fighting or Junko in jail or the fact that Izuru was now gone, taking Hajime’s body with him. And yet, she dwelled anyhow. 

“Who made the missing posters for me?” Peko asked one day in the middle of March. “And how much did they charge?”

“Ryouta. He’s Ruruka’s cousin. And he charged nothing. Apparently he owed her a favor or some shit. Why’re you asking? Also, do you know if I’m using the right formula for this?” Fuyuhiko held out his paper and Peko investigated it, a small frown crossing her face.

“It looks like it.” She said. “But you forgot to carry the one here. And I was just wondering if he could maybe make some for Hajime.” 

“I’m sure he could. I have his number here somewhere, hold on a second.” Eventually, Fuyuhiko found it and Peko called him. Within three days, there were posters of Hajime’s face all around the city. Within three weeks, Peko got a call. Hajime had woken up in a hospital in Springfield with no memory of anything past Komaeda shooting himself in the chest. She tossed the phone to Chiaki. It was better to let her explain everything. Peko still didn’t have the words.

***  
April, May, June, July. On the one year anniversary of when she got kicked out, Peko officially moved into her father’s house. It had been a pain to move everything and convince the courts that she was better off with her father because of how well she got along with her brother, but Peko managed to do it. Aimi made a certifiable feast to celebrate and Takaaki made an effort to be kind to her and Kiyotaka actually _hugged_ her, as awkward as that was. Elsie warmed up to all three of them within the evening. 

“It’s nice to have a home.” She told Elsie as she settled into bed. The cat purred in agreement and climbed up onto Peko’s chest before falling asleep. Peko was too happy to sleep and instead looked around her bedroom, entirely enamoured with the idea that something was actually hers.

***  
_The Chicago Times_

_August 19th, 2017_

**Trial for teen accused of over 100 felony charges set for April**

After repeatedly refusing any plea deals, a judge has finally set a trial date for Junko Enoshima, the 16 year old who has been accused of conspiracy to commit murder, attempted murder, murder in the first degree, blackmail, kidnapping, and rape. It will begin on April 13th, 2017 and is expected to last until May 1st. When asked for a comment on the situation, one of the many people Junko allegedly blackmailed, Ibuki Mioda, refused to comment.

***  
Junior year began uneventfully, to the great relief of all. Peko was fortunate enough to have trigonometry and English with Fuyuhiko, Hajime and Chiaki, study hall with Natsumi and Ibuki, and French with Taka and Mondo. September went by and she watched with something like curiosity as Kiyotaka and Mondo danced around each other, flirting with each other and yet not quite ever getting close enough to call it anything. She complained about it in gym class, while participating in a cartwheel contest against Akane and Aoi that she didn’t quite understand how she ended up participating. 

“I just wish they would do something.” Peko said. “At first it was all quite charming, but now…”

Akane snickered at that comment, nearly losing her balance. “You can’t judge on that front, Peko!”

“Why not?” She asked, landing on her feet and leaning against the chain link fence.

“Because you and Fuyuhiko are doing the same thing!” Aoi insisted, laughing when Peko’s face turned red.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Peko told her defensively, turning her face away once she was back on her feet.

“Oh, come on! He keeps sending you pictures of cats and carries your books and hangs out with you _all the time_. And you do the same thing! Just make out with him and get it over with.” Akane suggested, ruffling Peko’s hair.

She gave no response to that, instead just standing up straighter and diverting the conversation ad quickly as possible. “First one to cartwheel all the way to where Nagito’s standing and go past him without hearing the words hope or talent can take my three dollars and buy a donut from Ozawa’s room.” 

To Peko’s amazement, both of them fell for it and were flipping away at top speed. She shook her head as she watched them, silently considering the possibility that Fuyuhiko loved her back.

***  
To: Lucille Pekoyama  
From: Andrew Honda  
Subject: Junko Enoshima’s Trial

Ms. Pekoyama,  
As I understand from my client’s testimony, you have been previously acquainted with Ms. Junko Enoshima. I would like to speak to you about being a witness in her defense as soon as you are available. My office hours are 9 am to 6 pm on Monday through Friday and 8 am to 8 pm on Saturdays. If these times will not work for you, please let me know and I will make other arrangements. 

Sincerely,  
Andrew Honda, Cook County DA

***

To: Andrew Honda  
From: Lucille Pekoyama  
Subject: RE: Junko Enoshima’s Trial

Mr. Honda,  
No.  
Sincerely,  
Lucille Pekoyama

***

To: Lucille Pekoyama  
From: Andrew Honda  
Subject: RE: RE: Junko Enoshima’s Trial  
Ms. Pekoyama,  
I urge you to reconsider your decision not to speak with me. Even if you do decide not to speak in Ms. Enoshima’s defense, the conversation would be beneficial for both of us. However, I do believe it would be best for everyone for you to speak on her behalf. From what I understand, you are an admirable young woman and your testimony would be crucial for assisting your friend in this difficult situation. Please get back to me as to when you are available to come to my office.

Sincerely,  
Andrew Honda, Cook County DA

***  
To: Andrew Honda  
From: Lucille Pekoyama  
Subject: RE: RE: RE: Junko’s Trial

Mr. Honda,  
No.  
Sincerely,  
Lucille Pekoyama

P.S. Junko Enoshima is not my friend. Junko Enoshima does not have friends, only victims. Do not ask anyone who is currently or was previously a resident of Hope’s Peak to speak in her defense. If you do, I will be forced to take action. Thank you for your consideration. 

Attached: wikipedia.com/Lucille_Peko_Pekoyama/section/Kendo_Record_And_Martial_Arts_Training

***

Fuyuhiko read over the last email, beaming over at Peko. His pride in her was nearly uncontainable and he tossed her phone back to her. 

“Incredible! If he isn’t scared shitless by this, he’s the biggest fuckin’ idiot in this side of Illinois.” He said, watching the way Peko smiled softly and focused on petting Elsie, who was happy for the attention. 

“He agreed to be Junko Enoshima’s defense attorney. I think he’s already clearly the biggest idiot in this side of Illinois.” Peko commented, causing Fuyuhiko to chuckle. 

“Oh yeah, no doubt about that.” Fuyuhiko agreed. “Linkin’ your own Wikipedia page to the section about your badassery was a nice touch, by the way. Subtle, but also terrifying.”

Peko looked up and tilted her head slightly to the side. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Fuyuhiko said. “Hey, um, do you want to go get something to eat? I know you said that your folks are busy tonight and so are mine, so…I mean, it would be a great way to celebrate that level of coolness”

“I’d love to.” Peko said, trying to contain the excitement in her voice. She didn’t succeed, but somehow, she didn’t mine. 

“Really?” He asked, tilting his head to the side in almost the exact same way that Peko had done just seconds before. The gesture was so charming that Peko couldn’t help but giggle. 

“Yes, really.” She confirmed, getting up from her bed. Elsie grumbled in protest, but was soon silenced by a toy she had left in the corner and was distracted enough that Fuyuhiko and Peko could slip out with ease, their hands almost touching as they walked together, side-by-side.

***  
_The Chicago Times_

_March 25th, 2018_

**Jury selected for controversial case involving teen accused of over 100 felony charges**

After a lengthy selection process that was the second longest in Cook County’s history, a jury has been selected for the trial of Junko Enoshima. Information on the jurors has not been released, although multiple jurors have spoken to our paper anonymously. Most of the were anxious for the trial and expressed concern for all parties, from the victims to the lawyers to Ms. Enoshima herself. “The poor dear,” Said a juror who requested not to be named. “Even if she did do these things, imagine how much anguish she must be in now.” Another juror held the opposite opinion. “I just agreed to this to get the right to put this [insults redacted] to death.”

The attorney for Ms. Enoshima, Andrew Honda, recently released a statement from his client saying that she was eager to prove her innocence and go back to Hope’s Peak Halfway House and mourn the death of Monaca and deal with all that happened in peace. The statement was nearly identical to the one released five years ago when she was put on trial for the murder of her twin sister, Mukuro Ikusaba along with their friend, Yasuke Matsuda. When asked about these similarities, Mr. Honda did not comment. The list of witnesses has also been released.

***

Peko spent hours going over her testimony. She agonized over exact details, had Kiyotaka pretend to be the defense and grill her until they were satisfied with her ability to respond under pressure, and even gave the paper she wrote everything out on to Hajime to cover the lapses in his memory that bothered him because it contained almost all of the details that Izuru refused to tell him. With the help of Nagito and Chiaki and the prosecution attorney, a stern woman named Pasang del Marquez who Peko would have trusted with her life if it came down to it, she managed to get Izuru out for long enough to go to trial and tell what he knew. On the first day of the actual trial, she filed in between Kiyotaka and Fuyuhiko and sat towards the back of the courtroom. Natsumi was somewhat delayed since she tried to pick a fight with a reporter who got too close, but she managed to make it in. Mikan, Nagito, Izuru, Chiaki, and Ibuki sat right in front of them. When Peko looked to the right and beyond Fuyuhiko and Natsumi, she could see the four kids that remained of the child’s gang the Warriors of Hope, Mahiru, Hiyoko, and Chihiro. To her left was just Kiyotaka and Mondo, who were holding hands and whispering something she couldn’t quite hear.

It was somewhere between Natsumi’s lengthy story about the reporter that Junko came into the courtroom. Peko sat up and turned her head away from Enoshima, but she couldn’t help but glance out of the corner of her eye at the girl she hadn’t seen in over a year. Her hair was longer than before, going all the way down to her waist and left to hang loose instead of being pushed up into its normal pigtails. The orange jumpsuit hung on her thin frame, which was even thinner than memory served. Junko’s walk was confident, defiant, begging to be looked at and observed, but her eyes were empty. Sure, the color was bright, but there was no real emotion behind it. Peko had seen that gaze a thousand times in her own mirror and almost felt bad for Junko until she smirked directly at Mikan and caused the girl to burst into tears. 

“Hey, you alright?” Fuyuhiko asked, noticing a subtle difference in the way that Peko sat that worried him.

“She’s…” Peko sighed, folding her hands in her lap and trying to think of what to say. “She’s just like I remember and yet so _different_.”

Before Fuyuhiko could respond to that, there was the sound of a gavel hitting the judge’s stand and all felt silent before the harsh reality of the law.

***

Three days into the trial and one day before she had to testify, Peko walked along Navy Pier with Fuyuhiko. It had been an impulse decision, to go out and eat at an Italian place and then just wander, but it was a good one. The night air was refreshing and made her feel calm. After three days of witnessing other people do their duty as witnesses, Peko was no longer as worried as she had been before the trial. It would be a half an hour, an hour maybe on the stand, and then she was done. Still, there was a faint buzzing in her ears that she recognized as anxiety that she tried to find some way to deal with. 

“So, what do you wanna do? I’m fine with just walking if you want.” Fuyuhiko offered her a world of choices and they spent a solid half an hour going through everything that they could possibly do from going to the movies to hijacking a boat and sailing to Canada, but nothing seemed quite satisfying, although Peko couldn’t help but smile at the concept of them sailing up to Canada and sending bottles of maple syrup to confused friends and getting dumb tourist-y pictures in front of some moose. 

After passing the ferris wheel at least six times on their walk, Peko looked up at it and made a decision. “Let’s go up. We could probably think of something to do during the wait, and if not, we’l get a ferris wheel ride out of it.”

“Shit, that works for me.” Fuyuhiko shrugged and they got into line. It was dark and the ferris wheel’s lights were shining green, reflecting on the water and looking like something from a dream. “Remember the last time we were here?”

 

“Somewhat. Didn’t Natsumi try to shove you off when we were near the top?” Peko’s face scrunched up as she tried to remember, and Fuyuhiko nodded. 

“Mhmm. That was something.” He chuckled at the memory, shoving his hands in his pocket. “We kept shoving each other and you were making the _best_ face ever, like you just couldn’t believe how fucking dumb we were.”

“Sometimes, I still can’t.” Peko told him, keeping her face blank, but Fuyuhiko could tell that she was actually _joking_ , an event so rare and wonderful that he forgot to be offended. 

“Neither can I. But damn, I’ve been burned. Totally charred. I probably look like something out of that one episode of _Shattering Evil_ where what’s-his-face puts a lighter in front of an oxygen tank and just--” Fuyuhiko made an erratic explosion gesture with his hands and hit a child behind them in the head. “Ah, shit! I’m sorry, kid. Wait, I just swore in front of a kid. Fuck! You’re not supposed to swear in front of kids! God dammit! I just did it again.”

“That was actually a third time.” Peko corrected, half of a Mona Lisa smile on her face. 

“Son of a--Look, kid, I will buy you and all of your siblings there ice cream if you keep your mouth shut about my mouth to your mother, got it? I don’t need a soccer mom down my throat.” He offered, somewhat embarrassed by the whole situation but also amused by his own misfortune because it was so minor. 

“Add a $20 on it and we got a deal.” The child said, trying to sound like a cool bargainer and instead sounding like exactly what he was--a kid who just heard the best offer he had all day. 

“Fine, fine, I’ll give you a $20. Knock yourself out.” Fuyuhiko produced a bill out of his pocket and then turned to Peko. She was more than aware that he could have managed to keep all of that money with how good he had become at negotiating, but on a night like this, he didn’t care to cause a stir. 

“That was something.” She commented as they got into their passenger car after handing a stoned attendant their tickets. 

“That...yeah, that’s the best word for that. Fucking disrespectful kid. He has a future in the stock market.” Fuyuhiko predicted as the wheel began to turn. 

They fell silent after that, just observing the scenery and trying not to make a big deal of the fact that their hands were almost touching. Peko could imagine herself reaching out, taking his hand in hers and saying something poetic and beautiful that would cause a dramatic love confession and give them a moment worthy of a romance novel. Instead she just looked up and said “I think someone drew a dick on the bottom of that car. My glasses are bit fogged up so I can’t tell, but..”

“Yeah, someone definitely drew a dick on the bottom of a ferris wheel car. How did they even do that? And oh my god, that spray paint has to be the ugliest shade of orange I’ve ever even. Somehow, it’s worse than what that one witness was wearing, Monima or whatever the hell. Seriously, she looked like a sentient pumpkin that went to a bar, got shit faced, and decided to cry about her ex to an underpaid Uber driver. It was humiliating to even be within a mile of her. The office guys in the building across the street were all wincing.” Fuyuhiko said, rolling his eyes before going off on a long and useless tangent on the strange jury member who only wore stereotypical Hawaiian tourist shirts that were covered in flowers. 

In the middle of his rant, Peko stared at him and realized that she absolutely loved him, loved him not in the way that people talked about in movies, but in the soft and quiet way that made her certain that she could stay with Fuyuhiko forever. 

“I love you.” She said, giving him almost no warning that she was going to say anything at all until she opened her mouth and said it. 

The car halted to a sudden stop and Fuyuhiko looked at her, half puzzled and half delighted. “I--You--I’m--I’m sorry, what did you say?” He asked, not daring to believe what he had just heard. 

“I love you.” Peko repeated. “I’ve loved you for a very long time. It’s fine if you don’t feel the same, but I just thought you should know.”

Fuyuhiko tried to get his thoughts together, tried to make sense of the fact that Peko _loved him back_ , but he was too overjoyed for words and instead sat there and moved closer to her. Peko had closed her eyes and looked distantly mortified, as if she had just made the biggest mistake of her life. He could almost hear her internal monologue, the frantic _I messed up, he doesn’t love me back, he’ll never want to speak to me again and I’m the biggest idiot on the planet_ , that persuaded him to lean in and kiss her on the cheek. 

“I love you, too.” He reassured, his voice softer than Peko had ever heard it. “I’m just really, really shit at saying it. Amazingly so.

Peko opened her eyes and Fuyuhiko watched her whole face relax and she gave him an easy smile, one that had taken so much time to achieve and that she now felt safe enough to give. “Oh, thank God.” She said before leaning in and kissing Fuyuhiko on the lips. It was an awkward kiss, to say the very least. Neither one of them knew what to do with their hands and their noses bumped together at least twice and Peko briefly thought about the chance that their car might fall from the sky and possible kill them. Still, it was easily one of the best moments of her life. 

It was impossible to say who ran out of breath first or when the car had started moving again, but eventually they broke apart. “We’re going to have to work on that. I’m afraid I’m not a very good kisser.” Peko said, folding her hands in her lap. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, I’m not either. But is your nose okay?” He asked, squinting at her to see if it bruised. 

“I think so.” Peko pushed up her glasses just to check and found that there was a slight pain in her nose, but it didn’t seem broken. “It hurts a bit, but it’s not too awful.”

“Shit. I owe you an ice pack once we get down.” Fuyuhiko promised. The whole thing was so ridiculous that after a beat of silence, they both burst into laughter. 

“You know, I think kissing is like kendo.” Peko observed between giggles. 

“How so?” He asked, watching as the ground rose up to meet them. 

She almost lost her train of thought for a second, but quickly recovered it. “It takes lots of practice to avoid hitting yourself in the face.” 

Fuyuhiko considered that observation and nodded with a comical amount of solemness. “I guess we’re going to have to keep kissing, then. For the sake of practice.”

“Of course. For practice.” She agreed. The second kiss was significantly less awkward than the first and Peko was certain that things would only get better with time. 

***

The next day was the day that Peko was set to testify against Junko Enoshima. Like she always had during the court proceedings, she sat between Kiyotaka and Fuyuhiko and watched the entire spectacle with a blank expression. Any time she saw a camera come near them, she sent the person behind the apparatus such a fierce glare that they trained the lens somewhere else. It took a solid half hour of formalities and recaps of the events and getting Junko to stop acting out before Peko was finally called to the stand. 

Some minor person of the court held a Bible out to her and remembering what she had been told about how these things worked, Peko placed her right hand on it. 

“Do you solemnly swear that you will tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” The man asked her, straightening his back so that he could seem taller. Even in her shortest pair of heels, Peko towered over the man and she realized that he couldn’t have been much older than twenty three or twenty four, probably still new to the position that he held. Under the pressure of the cameras, she felt a genuine surge of sympathy. 

“I do.” She said, her voice quiet and clipped and barely audible to anyone but the court stenographer. The Bible was taken away and Peko took her place behind the witness stand, sitting as straight as possible and fixing her eyes on Pasang del Marquez, who approached her with an aura of such absolute confidence that any fear that Peko might have felt melted away. 

“State your full, legal name for the record, please.” She requested, shifting a few papers and looking up at Peko. 

“Lucille Suzuki Pekoyama.” Peko said, focusing on the back of the courtroom, where everyone she knew and trusted sat. They all gave her nods of encouragement, reassuring her that she was doing well so far. 

“And your connection to the case?”

“I was...acquainted with Junko Enoshima at the time of the crimes.” Peko decided that acquainted was the best word. Friend was too personal, and there was no other solid description for it. 

“And how did you first become acquainted with Ms. Enoshima?”

“When I first moved into Hope’s Peak in the beginning of July. She was one of the first people I met.” Feeling the silent judgement of a jury who wanted to know why she ended up there, Peko added a quiet “I had nowhere else to go.”

“And can you point her out to me.”

“She’s right there.” Peko said, nodding to Junko Enoshima. Junko grinned at her and waved, much like she had that first day, but Peko didn’t feel afraid. She shook her head at Junko, took a deep breath, and then told the story that she had kept locked away for so long.

***  
_The Chicago Times_

_May 3rd, 2018_

**Junko Enoshima found guilty of over 100 felony convictions**

After a three day deliberation period, Ms. Junko Enoshima (17) has been found guilty of over 100 felony charges, including the rape and murder of Monaca Towa and the murder of ex-police chief Jorges Ramis. “It’s a travesty of justice,” her defense attorney said. “An innocent girl has been put in jail for these awful crimes. I can’t believe it.” The other side of the aisle held very different opinions. “I’m so happy that this is all over. My boy can finally rest now that his killer is dead,” said Juan Ramis, who also was once head of the police force. The sentencing is set to occur in July. Due to being a minor at the time of the crimes, Junko Enoshima is not eligible for the death penalty. However, a case has been filed with the appellate court to overturn this law. When asked to comment on this, Peko Pekoyama (whose testimony arguably lead directly to the guilty verdict) simply shrugged and said “It doesn't matter much to me if they kill her or not. What matters to me is that she’s going somewhere where she can’t hurt anyone else. That’s all that matters now.” 

***  
The last time Peko ever ran into Junko was a sunny July afternoon on the way home from her weekly ballet lessons. After lessons ended, she decided to grab her brother a coffee and drop it off at the court for Kiyotaka, who was so in love with his internship that he occasionally forgot to leave for lunch. She was walking down the halls of the courthouse when she saw her. Junko was sitting on a bench, whispering something to her defense attorney. Peko saw her and for a split second, it felt like the sun had been blocked out and the world collapsed in on itself and then Junko lifted her head and looked at her, plotting out what to say. 

“Enoshima.” Peko said shortly, deciding to get the interaction over with. 

“Lu-Lu!” She exclaimed, getting up from the bench and approaching her. Junko reached out for her, but Peko put out her arm and shook her head once. “Freedom’s made you a bitch, huh, Lu-Lu!”

“Peko.” She corrected. “My name is Peko Pekoyama. And yes, I suppose it has.” 

Junko laughed, grabbing onto her arm and digging her nails into her skin. Peko didn’t even flinch. “Good God, how honest, too! What else has it made you into? What’s left of you, huh? It’s like you don’t even fuckin’ exist even more!”

Peko rolled her eyes at that assessment, sighing and moving her arm away. “I’ve always existed, Enoshima. You just never recognized that. I didn’t for a while, either, but…I still exist. I always have.”

“There’s nothing left of you.” She said. “Nothing, nothing, nothing! What _are_ you? What’s left for you to believe in? What happened to loyalty and justice and whatever the fuck you stood behind?”

Those questions required some thought. Peko glanced up at the ceiling, trying to remember what happened to the girl who obediently followed right behind Junko without even questioning it. She changed, somewhere along the line, but becoming more outspoken and independent didn’t mean that she was no longer the same person. Her loyalty had stayed. Her sense of justice had stayed. But there was something added to it, something that Peko couldn’t properly name until she spotted a small crack in the ceiling. It was a tiny thing that would probably be fixed later in that day, but she couldn’t stop thinking about it. There was the crack in the ceiling, the window at the end of the hall, the sun outside, and a whole wide world filled with light.

“What’s left for you? I was the only one who ever gave two shits about you! What’s left for you to believe in, other than me?!”

Peko smiled at Junko, shook her head, and walked away. The answer to that was simple, but she didn’t care to give it to her. Nothing would satisfy her, so Peko didn’t even waste her breath on it, but she knew what the answer was: She believed in the insistence of light, that no matter how small of an opening it was given, it would always find a way through.


End file.
